The Black Heart
by Ardeth Saunders
Summary: Frank and Jake find love with the women of their dreams. One woman is a vicious serial killer. Which member of the UC team will be her next victim? Frank or Jake?
1. The Play

**DISCLAIMER:  _UC:  Undercover _and its cast of characters belong to the writers, creators, NBC, yadda yadda yadda.  However, the author would like to borrow several cast members [the author promises to give them back, well, maybe not ALL of them] for a few pages!  There is absolutely NO infringement intended.  All other characters belong solely to the author.**

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THE PLAY 

She was many things to different people.  Today, she was a meek librarian named Samantha Crump.  It was a frumpy name, but that was okay.  She liked playing different roles, just to see how many men she could attract.  Not many people knew of her secret life.  Only a few knew her true name.  She had never spoken it aloud.  She created her own characters and played them to the hilt.  Once she had a man frothing at the mouth for her, she would strike.  She took everything from him:  money, cars, jewelry, furs, and his life.  She had been working on her next target for quite some time now.  He had no idea what his little girlfriend had in store for him.

Cedrick Clawson, better known as 'Ced,' had been dating Sammie for a while.  Ced Clawson was a popular and well-known owner of several used car dealerships.  He was a shrewd businessman and never sold lemons to any of his customers.  If he ever found out one of his employees cheated a customer, he saw to it that they never worked in the auto industry again.  He was a sucker for a pretty face, and he had a tendency to be a wild man in bed.  He was as surprised as anybody when he met and was instantly attracted to the frumpy little redhead named Sam Crump.

Ced rarely went to the library, but he desperately needed to do some photocopying.  Normally, he would have taken care of the job at his office, but he was avoiding the sweet little gal who worked for him as his Girl Friday.  She was a bit more than that, of course, and had developed an unhealthy obsession.  She followed him wherever he went and called his house at all hours of the day and night.  He didn't like that.  He was dodging the office until his second in command could fire the kook.  Since he didn't do much of his own copying, he had no idea how to operate the damn copy machine.  It was unlike any he had ever used.  He refused to ask for help.  He wasn't about to allow a copier to best him.  He stood and griped under his breath for thirty minutes or more.  Ced was about to give up on the whole deal until Sam Crump entered his life.

She was tall, lean, and had outrageously long red hair.  Her porcelain skin shined with health.  She had hidden her green eyes behind a pair of glasses.  It was a shame.  She was too pretty to be working in such a boring job.  He envisioned her sprawled naked atop the hood of a car.  _Oh yeah, that would be the job for her_, he thought.  When she spoke, her voice was light and airy, her pitch neither too high nor too low.  Her only flaws were her thick glasses and a front tooth that lapped over the other.  Otherwise, she was a red haired Goddess.

He stood and gazed at her lustily while she showed him the fine art of photocopying.  He couldn't take his eyes off her full lips; they were red like strawberries.  She wore not one touch of makeup on her face.  He preferred women who didn't tart it up too much.  He had the greatest desire to touch her hair [_whore's hair_ was the term his mother used] during her tutorial.  He hated to see her leave.  When she completed her task, she started toward her place behind the information desk.  He took her by the arm and drew her back before she could make her escape.  Just like that, he asked her out, and just as Johnny-on-the-spot, she accepted his invitation.

The first night they were together, they had very hot, wicked sex.  Sammie may have looked like a prude, but once away from the stuffy library, she let it _all_ hang out.  Gone was her timid persona.  She seemed to become someone different altogether.  Ced didn't mind.  He was into all kinds of kinky things and Sammie shared his liking to whips and chains.  She even had an affinity for S&M.  The new girl was right up his back alley.  Before long, they were seeing each other every night.  Within a month, Sammie moved in with Ced and became his willing full-time love slave.  It was a beautiful thing.

Since Sam was so good to Ced, Ced was extra good to Sam.  He gave her anything she wanted.  He set her up with a car, credit cards, a generous allowance, replaced her glasses with specially made contact lens, and made sure she never wanted for anything.  Sammie had never had it so good.  She had given Ced this horrible story about her family.  She had told Ced she was beaten, raped, and starved by her father.  She was kicked out of her house by the age of fourteen and lived on the streets most of her life.  She also confided in him that an elderly couple had taken her in and straightened out her life.  Of course, this was only a fantasy constructed to deepen her bond with Ced.  It worked like a charm.

After several months, Ced decided it was time to settle down.  He wanted to marry the little gal who fulfilled every fantasy he had ever had.  He wanted to ensure that no one else could come in and sweep away his little love machine.  Of course, Sammie was just as anxious to marry him as well.  Against the advice of his attorney, he had Sam added to his will.  He wanted to leave everything to her in the event of his death.  Ced didn't expect to die any time soon; he was healthy as a stubborn mule with the tiniest of exceptions.  He hardly thought about that 'exception.'  He was anxious to get on with his life.  Little did he know that he didn't have long to live.

Ced was a man who liked to do things up nicely and _big_.  He was a pure Texan at heart and went all the way.  He didn't get a church for his wedding; it wasn't good enough.  He got a cathedral.  His wife-to-be didn't have some simple frumpy little wedding gown; she got one designed by the people who made Princess Diana's.  He didn't plan a simple honeymoon trip to Hawaii or the Bahamas.  No sir.  Ced went all out and booked a cruise to take them around the world.  He was happy, in love, and oblivious.  With all the money he was tossing around, his family urged him to hire a private detective to investigate her background.  Ced was rich, oblivious, and stubborn.  He wouldn't dare hear of it.

Of course, within two weeks of the wedding date, Sam already had her plan in place.  Although her fiancé was more than dense, she was not.  She had researched Ced's background thoroughly before even approaching him.  That was just her way.  She had to have the upper hand in everything, and this time, she surely did.  Ced was a strong man, gregarious, extremely tall, and a bit on the heavy side.  Despite all that, there wasn't much that could bring him down.  He didn't have any health problems common in men his age and size.  However, there was one little problem that hardly anyone outside his family knew about.  He was deathly allergic to red wasps.  One sting and he would be a goner if he didn't shoot up with his allergy medication.  Although he had never allowed Sammie to see it, he carried around a kit that would take care of him nicely.  It didn't matter, because Sam already knew.

She had dozens of connections in the medical field.  She normally eliminated the men in her life medically if at all possible.  Once upon a time, she had been a nurse, but a few packages of stolen narcotics found in her possession had ended her career.  What she couldn't find out by asking, she discovered through seduction.  She was very good at that, too.  She had gone to the doctor Ced used complaining of migraine headaches.  While the doctor chatted her up, she mentioned seeing Ced.  At first, the doctor didn't say much.  He understood patient/doctor confidentiality.  However, Sam was pretty slick.  All she had to do was touch a man, breathe on him, or act innocent and naïve.  It worked every time.  Before long, the doctor was spilling all of Ced's medical secrets.

Sam was aware that Ced wanted to take her on a cruise immediately following their reception.  But she managed to sweet talk him into staying one night at a local hotel.  Of course, he consented to it.  He would give Sammie the moon and stars if he could reach them.

The day of the wedding dawned warm and cloudless.  Ced wouldn't have had it any other way.  There were more than four hundred wedding guests, and most of them had to crowd into the cathedral to get a seat.  Even though Ced's family didn't trust Sam, they attended anyway.  They all loved him, and didn't want to rock the boat.  Besides, he _could_ take them out of his will.  Ced was a happy man.  Gussied up in a black tuxedo with matching cowboy hat and boots [true Texans couldn't do it any other way], he stood around beaming.  He was so ecstatic that he wanted to hug everyone, even his enemies.  He had gotten five of his closest friends to serve as attendants.  Sam didn't have anyone she knew as her bride's maids.  Most of the women were the wives of Ced's friends.  He thought nothing of it, because he knew of her disadvantaged background.  

The ceremony went off without a hitch.  Ced half expected his family to speak up during the 'objections' part of the wedding, but no one did.  He was grateful.  He didn't care what he had to do, even if it meant eloping to a sleazy Vegas chapel, he was intent on marrying his fantasy gal.  The reception was like the biggest party of the century.  Food and booze filled the room.  Just about everyone got drunk, with the exception of Sam and Ced.  Sam wanted to keep her mind clear and focused on her plan.  Ced didn't want whiskey dick to ruin his wedding night.

By three in the morning, Ced was literally aching for his little gal.  He was a gracious host, however, and didn't want to be rude.  But to his relief, the guests began drifting away little by little until they were all gone.  The two of them quickly retired to their luxury suite where all their dark fantasies awaited them.

It had been a full twenty-four hours since Ced had had Sam, and on their wedding night, it didn't take long for him to explode.  He felt like a goofy little kid, but Sam understood.  Their appetites often led them to make love three or four times a day.  And after very good, very nasty sex, it was standard for Ced to pass out.  Any average woman might have become frustrated with this behavior, but Sam was no average woman.  She didn't particularly like sex; she used it as a tool to get what she wanted.  Tonight was no exception.  She stood and gazed in disgust at Ced as he slept.  To her, he looked like a beached whale.  She couldn't stand for him to touch her, but she was a good actress.  It was time to put her plan into action.

Sammie had gotten stung about three times when she captured the wasps' nest.  She put the fuckers and their muddy looking nest in a plastic baggie and poked holes in it so they wouldn't suffocate.  Dead wasps would do her no good.  That thought was deliciously funny, and she had to stifle a laugh, even though her new hubby slept so soundly an explosion wouldn't wake him.  She carried her million-dollar baggie of wasps into the room.  She went to the window and opened it just enough to make it believable.  There was an awning over the window, and it would appear that the nest had perhaps fallen loose from it.  She was careful to hold the top of the baggie because the little fuckers could sting right through the plastic.  Slowly, she opened the baggie, holding the edges closed until she could position her body.  She stood as close to the door as she dared.  She shook the nest loose and punted it as if it were a football.  She was stung during the process, but she had learned at a young age to stifle pain.  She could hear the wasps as they left the nest.  She opened the door and stepped out as quickly as she could.            

Ced was brought out of his sound sleep by an unmistakable pain.  He didn't have time to think about it, although he knew what it was.  His throat had already begun to close up and swell.  He had to find Sam.  She had to help him get his medication.  Before he even knew what hit him, he was swarmed by a dozen or more of the little red menaces.  At that exact moment, Sam returned to the room.  The wasps were swarming crazily about, stinging anything they touched.  She had to hide a grin as she watched the awesome display.  She stood and allowed the wasps to sting her a couple of times before she lifted her head to scream bloody murder.

Chaos ensued.  Several hotel workers were stung during their battle with the wasps.  The new Mrs. Clawson was hysterical.  Emergency personnel had been summoned, and they worked desperately to save his life.  The hotel manager stood in the room peering sadly at the awning.  He wondered what could have disturbed the wasp nest enough to allow it to drop in the room.  It was particularly windy that morning, and perhaps, just perhaps, the wind was the culprit.  

When the guests heard the screaming woman, they had called the police.  Several officers and detectives entered the room and gazed down at the dead man.  His neck was swelled up like an inner tube.  Disgusted, one officer watched as a wasp crawled out of the dead man's mouth.  It flew toward him and stung him.  With a painful cry, he crushed the wasp and threw its corpse onto the floor, stomping it for good measure.  They dug around Ced's personal belongings and found an allergy kit.

The young bride was inconsolable.  She couldn't stop crying or moaning her husband's name.  "Did you know your husband was allergic to stings," an approaching detective asked.

Sam looked up at the cop while tears streaked her face.  She gazed at him incredulously.  "_No_," she spat in shocked tears.  "He never told me."

For now, the detective would take her answer at face value.  However, he intended to find out more about this woman.  It looked set up to him.  Of course, he was suspicious of _everyone_.

A few days after interviewing Ced's grieving widow and other family members, the detective decided to mark Mrs. Clawson off his list.  What it had boiled down to was that Mr. Clawson had been at the wrong place at the right time; so cliché, but so true.

Cedrick Clawson didn't do anything small in his life, so it was apt that his funeral was large and overflowing with mourners.  The family who had virtually ignored Sammie became her foundation.  They hovered over her tirelessly.  She didn't believe for one second that they were really interested in her.  She knew they were sucking up to her just as they had sucked up to Ced before his death.  Inherently, they knew she held the power now.  She liked having the upper hand, but as soon as the will was read, she was cutting them all off and leaving for parts unknown.

The reading of the will was conducted immediately following the gravesite service.  All the members of Ced's family, including Sam, were crammed into his attorney's office.  The family wasn't shocked to hear that Ced had left nearly everything to Sam.  He left enough to take care of his family, but the biggest chunk of his fortune went to his young wife.  His family vowed to contest it, but their arguments were weak.  It didn't matter to Sam, she had formulated yet another plan.

Within two weeks, Sammie had sold all of Ced's car dealerships to his competitors.  She wanted to liquidate as many of his assets as she could.  His family was horrified, but there was little they could do right away.  She sold the family home, all of Ced's cars, but she retained a beach house he owned in Florida.  Everything he owned, with the exception of that house, was sold or given away.  When Sam had accomplished every task she set out, she bought a plane ticket and left town.  It would take a couple of months to create a new identity.  She had no particular target in mind, but she was sure to find someone soon.  She never had any trouble in that department.

*  *  *

She spied her next victim as he walked briskly down a busy city street.  By that time, she had changed her identity again and had taken a different name.  She didn't have to work since Ced had been so generous to her, but she needed a job for cover.  Ironically enough, she was working in a library again, but she was no frump Crump.  The day she saw her handsome new victim, she had been having lunch and hunting at the same time.  His dark hair and broodiness intrigued her.  She wasn't sure if he was wealthy, but he carried himself with the demeanor of a very important man.  

She quickly threw some bills on the table and jogged to catch up to him.  She followed him for a long time at a safe distance.  She watched from afar as he approached a building and went inside.  She slowly approached it and stood outside for what seemed like two hours.  This game would be difficult to bring down, but she sensed she could do it.  She had succeeded at bringing down one of the most influential men in Texas history, and if she could do that, she could do anything.  


	2. Chance Encounter

CHANCE ENCOUNTER

She sat back and watched him for a distance as she had been doing for days.  She was frustrated because she hadn't found out much about him other than his name.  She again realized how much of a challenge he presented to her, but she was intrigued.  He was much more handsome and younger than Ced.  He had dark hair, dark eyes, and was brooding.  Perhaps he was even a bit on the angry side.  She liked that.  It meant he was a man always on his toes.  He'd likely be suspicious of every person he encountered, including women.  She ran her tongue over her lips as she watched him walking back and forth, speaking urgently on a cell phone.  She wanted to wait before she met him.

*  *  *

In Michigan, a family sat around the dinner table discussing Joel Kennedy and his grieving young widow, Brianna.  Of course, Brianna no longer resided in Michigan, but they weren't sure where she had gone.  All they were sure of was that she had taken off with more than seventy percent of Joel's fortune.  Unlike Ced's family, they were more concerned with Joel's death than his fortune.  Kennedy had died of a massive heart attack, but they were having a hard time coming to terms with his death.  In fact, they were quite suspicious of the way he died.  There was no reason for him to have had a heart attack.  He was relatively young, only forty, and was in perfect health.  The family had power and influence in their state.  They made plans to have Joel's body exhumed.

Meanwhile in Texas, another family was discussing the death of Cedrick Clawson.  They thought that Sam's explanation was a bit unbelievable.  Ced's nephew, Miles, was a 'cop' wannabe.  He decided to take the law into his hands and to initiate an investigation.  The first place he stopped was the hotel where his uncle died.  None of the employees were eager to give any information to Miles.  The manager had basically forbidden them to say anything, because he was terrified that the family wanted to sue the hotel.  Miles was not dissuaded that easily.  He took his cock and bull straight up to the manager.  Of course, the Clawson name in Texas was a big deal, and he was literally kissing Miles' feet.  However, he didn't know anything other than what he saw the night Clawson died.

Frustrated now, Miles was tempted to kick a hole in the wall.  He was counting on Uncle Ced's money to get him out of his gambling debt, and he couldn't get his hands on any money while Sam had it.  Of course, what Ced never knew was that Miles had had a very brief fling with Sam before she married his uncle.  He began to slam his way out of the hotel when a housemaid stopped him.  She gave him the information he needed to hear.  Satisfied for the time being, Miles hurriedly left the hotel and made his way back home.  After downing a ton of gin, he gave his family the news.  The housemaid at the hotel had seen Sam carrying in a wasp nest in a plastic baggie.  It appeared that Ced's death wasn't exactly a tragic accident.

The families in Michigan and Texas weren't exactly the only ones with 'relative' issues.  Other families in California and Utah also had a couple of sudden, unexplained deaths.  Sam Crump got around.

*  *  *

Donovan was making his way home after a long, grueling day.  It was a bit past ten at night, and he was more than ecstatic to be home.  He couldn't wait to get inside, have a glass of wine, and pass out on the bed a full eight hours.  _What's sleep_, he thought sardonically.  Lately, he had gotten very little.  It seemed as if every case they had decided to explode all at the same time.  He couldn't remember the last day he had slept in his own bed.  Was it two days, or four?  _Who cares_?  It mattered little right now.  His bed was less than a dozen floors away, and his body seemed to be running down the closer he drew near.

He left his car, not caring if he locked it, and headed toward the elevator that would take him to his apartment.  On any other night, he might have foregone the elevators and hit the stairs.  Not tonight.  He was simply too damn tired for it.  He impatiently stabbed the 'up' button with his forefinger and waited.  _If I had taken the stairs, I'd be in bed by now_, he grumbled to himself.  After a seeming eon, the elevator doors opened.  He started to climb inside, but a noise from behind stopped him.  He stopped and turned toward the noise.  For a moment, he thought his tired brain had begun to make him hallucinate.  Donovan stood absolutely still and listened carefully.

The noise came again.  It was the sound of a woman cursing under her breath.  He was almost too tired to react to it, but he couldn't exactly let it go.  Cautiously, he made his way toward the noise.  It came from a few cars to the left of his.  He moved lithely, keeping his body stiff and his arms tight to his body.  _It's ten at night; you're not on duty_.  He shoved the voice aside, wondering if all people in his line of work were schizophrenic.  As he drew closer, the curses became clearer.  Temptation nearly forced him to take his gun from its holster.  

"_Shit_," a voice said.  "_Why me?  Why today?  Fuck it all_."

Donovan finally had the woman's car in sight.  It was a snazzy Jaguar XJ6.  The passenger door was wide open.  As he drew closer, he saw the woman.  She was kneeled on one knee picking up dozens of books.  The first thing that immediately drew his attention was her hair.  It was lovely, a deep shade of auburn, and hung just below her shoulders.  She had impatiently tucked the locks behind her ears as she set about her task of retrieving the books.  She didn't immediately notice Donovan; she continued to curse the books, her 'shitty' life, and the fact that 'no one had offered to help.'  Amused in spite of himself, Donovan relaxed.  What he thought had been someone in trouble was simply a woman in a fit of rage.

He cleared his throat, the noise echoing in the parking garage.  She looked up suddenly and fixed a beautiful set of green eyes on his face.  His tall imposing stature intimidated her.  He could see the expression in her face.  Before he had the chance to announce he was harmless, she stood up shakily.

"Look, I have nothing but these books, but you're welcome to them," she said fearfully.

Donovan wasn't sure if he was tired or evil or both.  Almost wickedly, he grinned.  "The car is kind of nice."

"It's a rental.  But if you want it, take it," she said, the fear never leaving her voice.

He couldn't help but chuckle.  He held out his hands as an act of attrition.  "No, please, I'm sorry."  _Yes, I'm evil_, he thought, _truly evil_.  "I'm harmless, really."

She studied him suspiciously.  She wasn't born yesterday and noticed the gun holstered beneath his jacket.  "Oh yeah," she challenged.  "Why do you have a gun?  You don't look like a cop."

He lifted an eyebrow and matched her glare.  "I don't?  What does a 'cop' look like then?"

_Damn, he's hot_, she thought.  "Not like you.  I was thinking along the lines of Sipowhatzhisname on _NYPD Blue_."

He shook his head.  "I'm not a cop, but I'm also not a thief.  I'm Frank Donovan, I live in this building.  I heard you and thought you might be in some type of trouble."

Donovan offered his hand to her and she stared at it a moment, as if he had the ability to kill her just by shaking it.  She took his hand in hers briefly.  It was large and warm with long, tapered fingers.  "The only trouble I'm in," she began, "is insufferable clumsiness."

"As I noticed," he said while gazing down at the pile of books.  "Do you live here?  I've never seen you before."

"Nope," she said nonchalantly.  "My co-worker lives on twelve.  She was helping me with my dissertation."  Realizing she had forgotten something, she shook her head incredulously.  "I'm sorry, I'm Loralei Kadin, and this," she said as she swept her hand over the pile of books, "is my mess, which I need to get back to."

Without ceremony, she went down on one knee again and began picking up her books.  Donovan kneeled before her and began helping her gather them.  "Really, Mr. Donovan," she said, "you don't have to."

"No, I want to," he said, and he meant it.  "By the way, I'm Frank, not Mr. Donovan."  

Every few seconds, he would pick up a book and glance at her face.  Her skin was clear and peachy, with a scattering of freckles across her nose that she had desperately tried to hide with makeup.  She was beautiful and intriguing.  She looked up once and met his gaze.  Her cheeks pinked considerably.  This fellow had the loveliest dark brown eyes.  They seemed to be able to read her, to know her thoughts.  She vaguely wondered if he had been able to read her passing 'he's hot' thought.  Unsettling, but sexy.  

When the last book was collected and thrown into the car, they each began to stand at the same time.  In the process, their heads bumped together.  Incredibly embarrassed now, she stood up and rubbed her head.  Donovan stood and copied her.  Within seconds, they burst into easy laughter.

"I should have warned you that my head is pretty damn hard," she said through hitching guffaws.

He smiled.  "I should have warned you of the same."

"Thank you, Frank.  I would have been out here for an hour collecting those books and papers if it hadn't been for you."  She closed the car door and saw that the handsome stranger had not left.

"Would you consider having dinner with me tomorrow night," he asked suddenly, unexpectedly for them both.  Donovan wasn't in the habit of asking out rank strangers, but something about her had appealed to him.

She smiled.  She had hoped he wanted to ask her out.  "Consider it?  Okay."  She tapped her foot for three seconds.  "I'd love to.  I know this great Chinese restaurant a block and a half from here.  I could meet you there at eight'ish?"

Donovan was amazed.  The place she mentioned was his favorite Chinese restaurant.  "Sounds great."

She went around to the driver's side door and unlocked it.  "Until then?"

He fixed his dark eyes on her and nodded.  "Yes, until then."

"Good night, Frank."  Before she gave him the chance to speak, she climbed into her car, started it, put it in gear, and pulled out of the parking slot.

Donovan turned and made his way toward the elevators again.  He stood for several minutes and waited again for a 'slow-as-Christmas' car to arrive.  He climbed inside it and punched his floor.  What had started out as a lonely night of wine and sleep had become something a bit more…promising.  If he had ignored the curses of the woman, he never would have seen her again.  It was strange how fate sometimes stepped in and kicked a man in the ass.  It seemed as if good things always came at the most unexpected times.

*  *  *

The bar was crowded and noisy tonight, but Jake was oblivious to it all.  As much as Donovan had before him, he was dog-tired, but needed to unwind.  It seemed as if the more people were surrounding him, the better off he was.  Grueling was the only word he could think of to describe the last few days.  What more could happen tonight?  _Don't say that or something **will** happen_.  He needed a break, needed a vacation, but didn't see that in the works for a long time down the road.  Besides, Donovan wanted 110% seven days a week.  

Almost sullenly, Jake sat at the bar and nursed his drink.  Any other night, he might have downed several and then passed out heavily in bed.  Not tonight.  He seemed unsettled, as if something was about to happen.  Of course, he had always followed his gut reaction when it came to most things, and he hoped that nothing bad was going to happen.  After what the team had gone through lately, he'd likely go screaming down the streets if something happened.

Across the way from him, he spotted a young woman seemingly sitting alone.  He noticed her right away, because she was a bit unlike the women streaming in and out of the crowd.  Her hair was an unusual shade of red, and it fell halfway down her back.  He couldn't see much else due to the lights and smoke, but her hair stood out like a red flag.  He was immediately intrigued.  Although curious, he didn't make one move toward her.  Yet, his eyes never left her lovely face.  Eventually, she noticed a pair of eyes on her and she looked up.  Grinning like a goofy kid, he nodded her way.  She returned his grin and nodded back, likely mocking him.  He called out for the bartender and sent her another drink.  Once she received it, she picked it up and began making her way toward him.

"So," she said through a sigh, "how often do you buy drinks for strange women?"

He smiled his crooked little smile.  "Not often."

"I'm Zara," she said.

_Zara_, he thought, _exotic_.  "I'm Jake."

"Do you mind if I join you 'I'm Jake?'"

He shook his head, suddenly loving the hell out of this.  "Don't mind at all."

*  *  *

That night as Frank and Jake marveled about the terrific women they had met, one of them lay in bed smiling.  Her 'chance encounter' had landed her right where she wanted and needed to be.  It was wonderful.  It would also be a shame.  He was so young and handsome.  His death would be tragic, of course, but she would give him the universe until she was ready to strike.  She wished she could have gotten more information about him before she made her move.  However, she still knew so very little.  His past, habits, hobbies, dreams, and desires were well hidden.  She would uncover them, no matter how long it took, no matter how much she had to sleep with him.  Not only did she enjoy challenges, but she also had the patience to match them, to match _all_ of them.   


	3. Fateful Nights

FATEFUL NIGHTS

She stood in front of the mirror preparing herself for her date.  She took great care in applying her makeup.  She wanted to look breathtaking.  She wasn't sure if she wanted to sleep with him right away as she had done with her late husband.  She wanted to tease him, to make him wait.  He seemed to be the type of man who might be put off by a woman who was too forward.  She didn't want to risk running him off before her foot was in the door.  She finished fussing with her makeup and hair, and stood back to examine the results.  She smiled and whispered his name aloud.  She loved the way it sounded escaping her lips.  She had yet to decide how he would meet his untimely demise, but since she discovered he worked with and around handguns, she was sure she could make his death creative.

*  *  *

The families of the murdered men in Utah, Michigan, and California were on the trail of the elusive woman they felt was responsible for the deaths of their loved ones.  Each dead man was exhumed and autopsied.  In all three cases, they hadn't died exactly as how it appeared.  Three separate calls were made to three different FBI offices.

*  *  *

The evening of Donovan's date, he fussed more with his appearance than any woman ever would.  He didn't understand why he was so nervous.  He had gone on many dates, had had relationships with more than his fair share of women, but still, he felt as ditzy as a young teenager on his first date.  He found it difficult to explain.  He hadn't wanted to dress too casually or fussy, so he had compromised a bit by wearing basic black slacks and a matching button-down shirt.  It wasn't very chilly outside, so he decided to forego the jacket tonight.  Besides, he was only walking a brief distance.  Donovan shook off the nervousness and pushed himself to leave.  He didn't want to be late for his first date [one of many, he hoped] with Loralei.

Loralei glanced at the door every time it opened.  She had gotten to the restaurant early, somehow wanting her first impression on the dark stranger to be a memorable one.  Every five minutes, she found her eyes wondering to her wristwatch.  She was certain he would stand her up, and she didn't want that.  Since meeting him, she hadn't been able to get him off her mind.  She brought her water glass shakily up to her lips and tentatively sipped at it.  Her clumsiness prevailed again and she managed to drip some down her blouse.  Groaning, she quickly grabbed her napkin and blotted at the water.  She was looking down as Donovan entered the restaurant.

Of course, he saw her right away.  Her gorgeous auburn hair was hard to miss.  It stood out like an amber flame.  Amused, he watched as she blotted her silk blouse with a napkin.  Even from the door, he could hear her grumbling under her breath.  It was a quality he found endearing.  When Loralei looked up, she saw Donovan approaching with a beautiful smile on his handsome face.  He had obviously seen her little 'dribble glass' trick.  

_He probably thinks I'm an idiot_, she thought.  "Hi," she said with an embarrassed little wave.

He touched the back of the chair across from her and asked, "Mind if I join you?"

_Duh_.  Mind?  She had the greatest desire to grab him by the shoulder and jerk his body down in the chair.  She didn't know what was more delicious, him or the food.  "Me?  Mind?  Uh uh."

He slid the chair out and sat down.  Almost at eye level now, she couldn't look away from his beautiful eyes.  She stared so long, she wasn't even aware of it until a waiter approached their table.  _I'm so obvious over here_.  However, she couldn't help it.  He was incredibly mysterious.  She couldn't help but wonder why he carried a gun.  She was tempted to ask, but knew that somehow, he probably wouldn't tell her.

"The pile of books," Donovan said suddenly, nearly startling her, "you're working on a Ph.D.?"

She didn't take her eyes off his face as she nodded and smiled ruefully.  "Oh yeah.  It seems as if I've been working on it for half my life now.  If you have never done it, I don't suggest you try."  _Dear Jesus, I'm rambling.  Won't the waiter bring an egg roll or something to stuff in my mouth_?

He smiled.  [_Damn, I wish he wouldn't do that_, she thought].  He could sense her nervousness, and wondered if she was aware he felt the same.  "I can only imagine.  What are you studying?"

"Criminal Justice.  It's a passion of mine.  I would eventually like to join the FBI."

Something clicked with him.  Same interest in food…and law enforcement.  Intriguing.  Intriguing indeed.  "Really?  I haven't had many dates with potential FBI recruits."

The way he spoke the words brought a wonderful pink hue to her cheeks.  "I'm a little on the ambitious side.  Other than that, my life is pretty boring.  I work part-time at the university library.  That's why I had so many books.  I get to cheat on the eight book limit," she said with a smile.  _Damn, here I am rambling again_.

"Ah, on the job perks.  You can't beat them," he said.

She sighed and took another drink of water.  This time, she didn't perform her great, amazing dribble glass trick.  "I'm boring you to tears, I know.  So, rescuer of potty mouthed women, what do you do?"

"You're not boring me at all, quite the opposite," he said, and meant it.  "I work for the Justice Department."

"Justice Department?  Damn.  I'm thoroughly impressed.  Perhaps you can help with my dissertation."

"Sorry," he said, shaking his head, "I'm no writer."

"A girl has to try, doesn't she?"

He gazed into her lovely green eyes.  He couldn't get enough of them.  "And I'm glad she did."

Throughout dinner, the two spoke very easily with each other.  For Donovan, it seemed as if he had known her all his life.  She shared some of the same interests, had similar dreams, and had the ability to make him laugh even when he didn't want to.  For Loralei, her nervousness melted to genuine warmth and a need to get even closer than she was.  She had never met a unique creature such as he.  Although their first few minutes had been awkward and uncomfortable, as most first dates were, by the end of the meal, she couldn't believe how easily she wanted to share her life history with him.

They stayed at the restaurant much longer than either intended.  When the workers began shutting off lights and drawing shades, they figured they had outstayed their welcome.  Loralei argued with Donovan over who would pay the bill, and they compromised with Donovan paying, and Loralei leaving the tip.  As they made their way out of the restaurant, she took his arm easily, as if she had known him for weeks instead of hours.

"Where are you parked," he asked.

"Actually, my friend is expecting me at her place tonight.  Would you mind walking me over," she asked with an innocent smile.  She had deliberately planned this.  She had a feeling she would want to extend the date, and she had been right.

He returned her smile.  "I'd love to."

In silence, which should have been awkward but was not, they walked to the building that housed Donovan's and her friend's apartment.  Once on the elevator, Loralei reached over him to push the floor she needed.  He caught a hint of her perfume, and noticed that her hair smelled like strawberries.  He was tempted to touch it, to see if it felt as soft as it looked.  When she straightened her body, Donovan gently took hold of her arm and drew her body into his arms.  Without the slightest hesitation, his full lips latched onto hers.  She smelled like strawberries and tasted like them.  It was intoxicating.

Donovan had meant for the kiss to be brief and soft, but when her lips parted against his, his tongue entered her mouth and teased hers.  He plunged his hands into her auburn tresses and discovered that it felt as soft as he thought.  Her arms went around him, and her hands moved over the solid muscle of his back.  They ventured lower onto his firm buttocks.  She couldn't believe how bold she was on the first date.  

Before she knew what was happening, Donovan's body had hers pressed against the elevator wall.  By that time, he had broken the kiss and allowed his lips to slip down to her throat.  The elevator dinged as each floor was passed.  Soon enough, the car would stop and what they were doing would be broadcast to the entire floor.  

She didn't want to stop him, but she had no choice.  Her floor was only a few more dings away.  "I…I think…think…we're going too fast," she said breathlessly.

Although he didn't want to stop any more than she wanted him to, he knew she was right.  Slowly, reluctantly, he backed away.  "I'm sorry," he said gazing down at her.

A crooked smile touched her lips.  "I hope you don't mean that," she said.

He shook his head and kissed her again, briefly this time.  "I didn't."

The elevator stopped and the doors came open.  Donovan held onto the 'door open' button as he waited for her to exit.  She thanked God there weren't any people waiting.  Her hair was mussed and her lipstick smeared.  Hastily, she drew out a handkerchief from her purse and wiped the lipstick off his mouth.

"You look cute in my lip gloss, but I think it's not butch enough for you," she said with a smile.

She was about to make her exit, but Donovan caught her arm.  "I want to see you again."

His words sounded more like a demand than a request, and for tonight, she would let it slide.  She enjoyed the hell out of his take-charge attitude.  "You will," she promised.  "Good night, Frank."

He watched her until she was out of sight.  It was time for him to go home and take a cold shower.

*  *  *

While Donovan was enjoying his evening with Loralei, Jake was waiting for Zara to show up for their date.  He had wanted to meet her in a more intimate setting, but she preferred the bar.  His watch told him she was late, and he was sure she wasn't going to show up.  He didn't want to admit to himself how disappointed he was.  When he had met her last night, he thought they had hit it off pretty well.  She seemed more than interested and flirted with him needlessly.  _But tonight, she doesn't show_.  He had just about given up on her when he noticed a redhead shuffling through the crowd.  He felt his heart beating hard in his chest as he tried to make out the features of the person.  _It's her_, he thought nervously.

Zara was decked out in a wicked mini-dress.  _Is that vinyl_, he wondered stupidly.  It was shiny and black, clinging to every curve, every line of her body.  She had put up her hair to reveal more of her beautifully madeup face.  She was absolutely breathtaking and more than sexy.  He nearly felt his eyeballs bugging out of his skull.

She approached him and squeezed his left buttock.  "Hey there, Stud.  Sorry I'm late, but it took forever to get a cab."

Stunned that she had grabbed him like that [but not in the least offended], he was at a loss for words.  However, he found his voice.  "I could have picked you up," he said.

She kissed his cheek.  "That's okay.  I like making men wait for me."

They ordered drinks and chatted easily enough.  Neither of them seemed to be able to take their eyes off the other.  Last night, Jake had been intrigued enough, but tonight, he was sinking into a different pool altogether.  She seemed to want to know everything about him, but she offered very little about herself beyond her mundane job at a library.

After a couple of drinks, she was in his lap, kissing him, teasing him.  At that time, he discovered that her dress was, indeed, vinyl.  She began to talk dirty in his ear.  In spite of himself, he grinned wickedly.  She seemed to know which of his buttons to push.  For Christ's sake, it was the first date, and he was already thinking about taking her home.  When she stopped whispering to him, her mouth began to nibble his earlobe.  He was content with letting her have her way, but his senses hadn't totally left him.

"You should stop doing that," he said softly, "unless you want me to break the first date rule."

"What's that," she asked grinning against his flesh.

"I don't take women home with me on the first date."

"No?"

He shook his head.  "No, but I'm very tempted right now."

*  *  *

Much, much later while Jake and Donovan were musing over the wonderful evenings they had had, the woman last know as Samantha Crump lay in bed.  She wasn't sleeping, of course.  Like most predators, she rarely slept well at night.  She thought of her date tonight, of him.  Oh, how she fought hard against her desire.  Normally, she could go for months on end without even _wanting_ to have sex.  However, tonight, she had been tempted.  Of course, she didn't expect him to be such a good kisser.  This man was not disgusting.  He was as delicious as he looked.  She found herself wanting him, and she was certain that when she had him, she would explode inside and out.  However, her plan was set in stone now.  He would die regardless of how good he was.  No man deserved to live, not in her mind, or in her world.


	4. The Black Heart Killer

THE BLACK HEART KILLER

The FBI saw an immediate connection between the deaths of the men in Utah, California, Michigan, and Texas.  They had collected various wedding photos of the woman with her husbands.  In almost all of them, she had tried to hide her face in some way.  However, a couple of the photos were good enough to map out some basic characteristics.  She was young, tall, and willowy.  Of course, that narrowed it down to about ten million women.  Yet, she had a couple of distinguishing features.  The first was her waist length flame red hair.  Each photo showed the same hair, styled only a little differently.  The second was her teeth.  One front tooth lapped slightly over the other.  'Samantha Crump,' dubbed as the Black Heart Killer or 'BHK' for short, had left a trail of dead men from the west coast to the north.  FBI agents assigned to the case decided that her next victim would probably reside in the mid-west, possibly Illinois or perhaps Missouri.  It was time to make some phone calls.

*  *  *

She was preparing for yet another evening out with her prey.  She had been seeing him steadily now for a few weeks.  They had been together almost every night, but she had yet to allow him to take her to bed.  It had been a difficult fight.  He was very sexual, insistent, and aggressive.  She wanted to get him to the point of begging before she relented.  She thought it might draw him closer to her.  Although she found him thrilling, he also frustrated her greatly.  He was very tight lipped about his job, and refused to share any details about what he did other than a few basic things.  Her research had uncovered little.  She only knew his full name, birth date, and his place of birth.  The rest she had learned from following him.  She had even taken to going to a shooting range every day to learn how to handle the weapon he preferred.  She had devised an extermination plan, but she wanted to get more information on his finances first.  He was a federal employee who probably made less per year than she had inherited in one day.  But there was something else.  She wasn't exactly after him for his money.  She typically went after the money first.  This one was different.  He was special.  She didn't want his money; she wanted to bring him down.  If she could bring down a federal agent, she could do anything.  Once she finally agreed to sleep with him, he would be hers.

*  *  *

Not many people knew that Frank Donovan could cook.  It wasn't a skill he could readily demonstrate in his line of work.  When he was growing up, his mother insisted on teaching all her children to cook, not just his sisters.  Of all the lessons she taught him, he was most grateful for this one.  Since Loralei was so fond of Chinese food, he wasn't sure how she would enjoy this particular meal.  He had been seeing her for three weeks, but he still felt nervous before each date.  He could never quite figure out why.  They had an easy relationship, and he had shared more secrets with her than he ever spilled in his life.  His family was probably the only people who knew more about him.  

Donovan smiled to himself when he thought back to his announcement earlier today.  He told Monica and Cody that he was leaving early.  Of course, they gave him the same puzzled looks he had grown to love.  He rarely left early, and when he did, he never explained why.  At times, he enjoyed leaving people hanging.  His secretive games actually amused him.  It wasn't that he liked toying with his team's emotions, but he never understood why they were all so interested in what he did after hours.  Seconds after he made his announcement, Monica passed along a message from Jake stating that he was taking off early as well.

Cody had quipped, "Hot dates?"

Donovan had lifted his eyebrow and grinned.  "Could be."  

Although his developing relationship was quite thrilling, there was also something disturbing about Loralei.  Her continued refusals of his advances were driving him insane.  Each night, he literally burned to make love to her, but she always begged off.  Of course, he backed away.  The odd thing was, he knew she wanted him as well.  Her denial of her own desires didn't exactly _mentally_ hurt him, and he would never become angry with her, but if she didn't let him have her soon, he would resort to begging.  Frank Donovan wasn't quite above that.  That was another thing not many people knew or would learn any time soon.  He had control over his impulses, he knew when to say when, but he was losing his patience.  

Donovan glanced up at the wall clock hanging just above the stove.  Loralei would arrive in about an hour.  He hoped the main course would be ready by the time she strolled through the door.  In the meantime, he threw together his special Caesar salad, topped with a creamy dressing that had been passed down for generations, the ingredients only divulged through threats of torture.  

*  *  *

Jake had agreed to meet Zara at her place.  What pleased them both was the fact that Zara lived only a couple of streets over from Jake.  They could literally walk to the other's apartment if they so desired.  Jake had been dating Zara as steadily as Donovan had with Loralei.  As much as Donovan, Jake was frustrated.  Zara was an all-out tease.  In the three weeks they had been seeing each other, she had learned all his buttons, and she liked to push them every chance she got.  She would arouse him to the point of physical discomfort, and then would draw away, breathless and apologetic.

He couldn't count the number of times he had told her she didn't need to apologize.  He _wanted_ her, and she seemed to want him, but the moment he would press forward, she would back away.  There was a night he recalled that was particularly frustrating.  They were in their second week of steady dating, and she had met him at his place.  They were on the living room sofa, half undressed, at the point where he was _almost_ inside her, but she had asked him to stop.  He agreed readily enough, but he couldn't deny he was disappointed.  

"Sex is a big deal to me," she had whispered.  "I don't want to fuck you and leave.  I want more."

Jake actually couldn't argue that point.  He felt the same, but he couldn't quite verbalize it.  He _understood_ and let her know he did.  Still, she resisted.  They had shared equally intense moments since, and he had been more than happy to stop even when he didn't think he could.  He would stick it out with her as long as it took, because he was beginning to care for her, and he didn't want to do anything to screw it up.  He hadn't met a woman like Zara Damon in a long time.

He felt silly knocking on her door, but he did it anyway.  She called out to him to come inside, and he didn't hesitate.  His heart skipped a beat as he opened the door.  He wasn't sure if he was feeling lust or love, but whatever it was, it was wonderful.  As he entered the room, his jaw dropped.  Zara had extinguished every light in the small apartment and lit the living room with several large candles.  She had managed to get a bottle of champagne and a large bowl of chocolate covered strawberries.  At first, he didn't see her.

"Zara?"

At the sound of his voice, she stepped out from the bathroom wearing a filmy negligee.  With no more than it covered, she could have just walked out naked.  Either way, he wouldn't have minded.  His heart began to pound and it seemed as if every drop of blood in his body gathered between his thighs.  She approached him and wrapped her arms around his neck.

"_No diga una palabra, mi amor.  Déjeme tomar el cuidado de usted_," she whispered.  ("Don't say a word, my love.  Let me take care of you.")

"_Oh mi dios, usted parece delicioso.  Usted me está conduciendo insano_."  His voice was deep and husky, thick with lust.  ("Oh my God, you look delicious.  You're driving me insane.")

"_Venido, mi amor.  Esta noche, estaco mi demanda en usted_," she said.  ("Come, my love.  Tonight, I stake my claim on you.")

*  *  *

When Donovan's doorbell rang promptly at 8:00 p.m., he had to fight to avoid running to the door.  He couldn't believe that in three weeks, he had become some lovesick sap.  He opened the door to Loralei, and his eyes drank her in greedily.  She wore a short sleeveless black dress that hugged her breasts and waist, but fell loosely about the rest of her body.  She had put up her gorgeous auburn hair, and he wondered if tonight would be the night he would see it fanned out across his pillow.  He couldn't take his eyes off her for a very long time.

Loralei did her own once over.  Donovan had tossed aside his 'basic black' attire and had gone for a light blue button down shirt and blue jeans.  He was even barefoot.  She couldn't believe it.  She had never seen him without business attire.  It didn't matter what he wore, he was always absolutely beautiful.  They didn't say one word.  Instead, Loralei entered his apartment and went easily into his embrace.  He kissed her, and again, he tasted strawberries.  Loralei plunged her hands into his hair as his hands moved from her waist to her breasts.  He cupped them into his hands, and immediately felt her nipples hardening against them.  She pressed her body forward, straining against his hands.  _Jesus, no bra_, he thought.  What would he do if she wouldn't make love to him tonight?

She broke the kiss while his hands continued to press, squeeze, and knead.  Her control was shattering like fine crystal.  "This is very nice," she said, "but can we eat first?  I'm starving."

He sighed and placed a gentle kiss to the side of her throat.  Before drawing away, he inhaled her scent.  Strawberries.  "If we must," he whispered huskily against her skin.  "I know what I'd rather have right now."

She closed her eyes and sighed.  "It sounds wonderful, Frank, but I need energy if you're going to keep me up all night."

*  *  *

Jake couldn't sleep.  There was no reason that he _shouldn't_ be able to shut down.  After so many weeks of teasing, games, and seduction, he and Zara had made exhausting love.  She had fed him strawberries until he thought he would vomit.  Then, she did a wicked trick.  She had taken one of the chocolate covered berries and drew lines all over her body with it.  Although he had sworn he'd never eat anything chocolate ever again in his life, he had tasted those lines, followed them up every curve of her body.  By the time he was finished, she was begging him to make love to her.  Of course, Jake was so worked up; she didn't have to say one word.  Making love to Zara was like opening up an old book shelved for years, everything came out all at once.  It was rough and ready, animalistic and wild.  She had scratched him up all the way to his buttocks, and he even thought a couple of them might have bled.  The wait had made it even more intense.  When it was over, he could have died right then and there a happy man.

*  *  *

Loralei had eaten slowly, savoring every bite of the meal.  Donovan picked at his.  He liked to cook, but didn't necessarily like to eat what he prepared.  He had trouble taking his eyes off her face.  Every now and then, she would look up and meet his gaze.  When she first began dating him, she had trouble with the way he gazed at her.  She had never met a man like Frank Donovan before.  He had the ability to consume her with his lovely brown eyes.  No other man had ever done that before.  She wasn't accustomed to such an intense gaze or an equally intense man.  Since she had begun to feel comfortable with him, she loved it when he looked at her.  He wanted her, it was obvious.  He had wanted her since their first date.  Tonight, she knew she couldn't deny him.

"Frank, I had no idea you were so domestic," she said with a smile.

"Be glad you didn't see earlier.  I had my apron on and everything.  You would have loved that."

She laughed.  "I'm sure I would.  You probably looked very cute."

He shrugged and smiled crookedly.  "Or very silly."

Loralei rose and took her plate with her.  "You could never look silly, Frank."  

She took her plate over to the kitchen counter and set it down.  He turned and gazed at her as she took her plate and began to rinse it.

"Loralei, what are you doing," he asked incredulously.

"What does it look like, Frank?  I'm helping out the host," she said with her back to him.

Donovan stood and approached her.  His arms went around her waist and he pulled her body toward his.  She was still holding the plate tightly in her hand.  "It can wait," he said, his voice falling into her ear.  "_I_ can't."

His lips found the side of her delicate throat and his teeth nipped at her flesh.  Her mouth dropped open in a passionate 'O.'  His arm came up and slid down the length of hers.  He grabbed her hand and wrenched the plate out of it.  It fell to the bottom of the sink with a hearty _THUNK_.

"I think you broke that," she said breathlessly.

He chuckled.  "I have others."

Barely giving her time to react, Donovan turned her body toward his and his lips swooped in for a deep kiss.  Their tongues seemed to duel for control of the kiss and their teeth were close to clicking together.  His hands came up from her waist to the back of her dress.  Slowly, his fingers drew the zipper down.  Her hands literally ripped open his shirt.  After weeks of denying him, her control flew out the window.  Within seconds, her hands were inside his shirt, finally on his chest, touching his warm skin.

Taking her hand into his, he broke the kiss and drew away from her.  Her dress was nearly falling off her, and she had to hold it with her free hand as he led her into the bedroom.  Once they stood before each other, Donovan took her hand away from the dress and drew the garment away from her body.  After it was past her waist, it slipped effortlessly off, pooling at her feet.  Her breasts were creamy and full; the nipples were red toned, like her hair.  They were erect and waiting for his attention.  But first, he had to look at her, to drink her in like he never had before.  He slid his hands down each side of her waist and let them drift onto her shapely hips.  She had on a garter belt and stockings, and that was a huge turn on for him.  He cupped her buttocks in his hands and drew her to him again.  He didn't kiss her; he gazed at her helplessly, wondering what this exquisite creature had done to him to make him feel so hungered, so fevered.  

She drew away from him reluctantly.  He thought she was going to deny him again, and he opened his mouth to protest.  She placed a finger over his lips before stripping him out of his shirt.  "I refuse to make love to a man while he's still wearing his shirt, Frank," she said with a lusty smile.

Together, they made quick work of his jeans and briefs.  Loralei took a few moments to take him in.  His body was long and lean with solid muscle running throughout his body.  Feeling a bit awkward, and perhaps a little shy, she took a quick peek below his waist and moaned at the sight of him.  He was a bit on the eager side.  Of course, she was as well, and she definitely couldn't hold that against him.  He led her to the bed.  She went down to it first, and he came after.  Leaning over her, his mouth and tongue traced a delicate line from her mouth, to her chin, and stopped before progressing lower.  She moaned a frustrated protest.

He said nothing.  Instead, he grinned at her.  _I am evil, I'm convinced_, he thought.  His mouth resumed its caress on her ribcage before stopping again at her abdomen.  She sighed and arched her back a bit as his fingers hooked onto the side of her silken panties.  She had forgotten all about them.  With movements that could only be described as slow and deliberate, he eased the undergarment down, slipping it past her hips, down her long, shapely legs, and finally off her body.  There was still her stockings and garter to worry about, but he thought better of it.  He wanted them left on.  Her spiky heeled sandals would have to go.  He didn't know if he liked the idea of those heels digging into him.  One at a time, he slipped each sandal off.

He moved his body back up over hers, his hands and mouth following the trail he had made on the way down.  His lips stopped at her nipples and he drew each one into his mouth, grazing them with his teeth, teasing them until she begged for mercy.  He wanted to take more time to explore, to see if she tasted like strawberries _everywhere_.  His strength was fading.  She had made him wait too long, and all he could think about was sinking inside her, drowning, losing all space and time. 

*  *  *

Incredible sex.  Extreme exhaustion.  She had held out just long enough.  He was hers now.


	5. Double Take

DOUBLE TAKE

She tried to slip out of his embrace without waking him, but he was a light sleeper.  He rose up on one elbow and watched as she began searching out her clothing.  It was tough going in the dark.  There was very little moonlight shining through the window.  She wasn't aware he was awake.  She wanted to walk out, to leave him like some type of exotic thief in the night.  He wanted to wake up with her in his arms, to see what she looked like the first thing in the morning.  Plain and simple, he was hooked.

"Where are you going," Donovan whispered huskily, his voice still thick with sleep.

Startled, she turned toward the bed.  "Oh shit, Frank, don't _do_ that."  Her heart was larruping in her chest.  She felt as if she were a rabbit being chased by a wolf.  "I have to go."

Donovan sat up and began to move.  Astonished, she watched as he crept toward her.  Scarily enough, at that exact moment, he _was _a wolf.  She didn't know whether to stay put or run.  He settled his hands on her shoulders.

"No you don't," he said.

His eyes consumed her as thoroughly as the wolf consumes the rabbit.  How was she going to get away from him?  "Come on, Frank," she said shakily.  "Don't do this to me."

He smiled a little as his hands slid down her arms to grasp hers.  "Do what to you," he asked innocently.

"Frank, please," she moaned.

"Okay," he said before laying a deep, breathless kiss on her unsuspecting mouth.  "Come back to bed," he said once he broke the kiss.  "Stay with me.  There's nothing so important that it can't wait until tomorrow."

She gazed up into his eyes.  He didn't understand, but she was in no condition to argue with him.  "Maybe you're right," she sighed.

He lifted an eyebrow.  "_Maybe_ I'm right," he teased.  "Come back to bed," he repeated.  "I want to wake up in the morning with you in my arms."

*  *  *

It was nearly nine thirty.  Monica, Cody, and Alex had arrived at work hours before.  However, there was no sight of Jake or Donovan.  Before any of the three could question each other about their missing colleagues, Jake came into the room, keeping his eye out for the boss.

"Relax, Donovan isn't here yet," Monica said as she casually perused the morning paper.  For once, there wasn't much going on.  It seemed as if the bad guys had all taken a vacation.

"No shit," Jake spat, surprised.  Donovan was _never_ late.  

"No shit," she agreed.

"Where were _you_ this morning," Cody asked while farting around with a sick computer.

He smiled a little.  "Nowhere special, just at home.  I overslept."

Monica peered at Jake over her newspaper.  "Did this have anything to do with your leaving early?  Come on, Jake, inquiring minds want to know."

Alex suddenly leaned closer to Jake.  "Yeah.  What she said."

Jake couldn't believe it as he began to feel the first tinges of a blush.  He _didn't_ blush.  "Maybe," he said with a broad grin on his lips.  

Together, Monica, Cody, and Alex cried "WOOOOOOOOO" in unison.

"I can hear you all the way down the street," Donovan said as he sauntered into the room.  

Four sets of eyes went immediately to their tardy leader.  He had walked over to the inbox and found nothing exciting.  He then went toward the double coffee maker and reached for decaf, debated with himself for a minute, and then grabbed regular instead.  He hadn't had much sleep the night before, and he would need the caffeine if he intended to get any work done.  He was going over his schedule in his mind as he poured the coffee without adding anything to it.  Full strength was the only way to go.  When he turned around, he noticed that his four subordinates were staring at him curiously with small knowing smiles on their faces.  He knew they suspected that something was going on, but he wasn't sure how much information he wanted to give them.

He took a sip of coffee and grimaced slightly at the bitter taste.  _Cody made it again_.  Someone needed to teach him how to make coffee.  Sedately, he asked, "Is there any reason why you're all staring at me?"

"Did you know you're late," Cody asked with a slight grin.  He had made the coffee stronger than usual this morning.  He thought the tardy members of the team might need it today.

He shrugged as if saying 'so what.'  A look of 'whafuck' was shared among the four of them.  Donovan?  Lackadaisical?  What was wrong with this picture?  He casually stood before them, sipping at the awful cup of coffee.  His mind had already begun to wonder to thoughts best left at home.  Donovan had left Loralei sleeping this morning.  It felt amazing holding her in his arms all night.  He hadn't wanted to leave at all, but he had little choice.  He had been told that a big case was headed their way, and he was to be in the office to await instructions [_whenever they came down_, he thought ruefully].  He would have preferred to stay in bed, his face in Loralei's sweet hair, inhaling the soft strawberry scent that seemed to possess all his senses at once.

"_Ahem_," Alex said.  Donovan snapped out of his daze and focused his eyes on her face.  "I thought we lost you for a moment.  So, we're all ears.  Did you have a hot date, too?"

He took another sip of coffee and grimaced again.  _Goddamn.  What did he put in this_?  "I never kiss and tell."  Without another word to them, he took his coffee and went upstairs.

*  *  *

That evening, Donovan once again went home a bit on the early side.  The instructions he had waited for all day had not come in.  He sent everyone home.  He couldn't concentrate on any paperwork.  His mind played back again and again to the night before.  He had no idea why he couldn't drive the thoughts out of his head.  He was addicted to Loralei; it was the only way to describe it.  Once inside his apartment, a soft smile touched his lips.  She was still there, asleep on the couch.  She had donned one of his shirts, and it appeared that she had nothing else on underneath.  He recalled that earlier, he had left his door key with a note, asking that she come back later today and wait for him.  He was afraid she wouldn't do it, and he was glad she proved him wrong.  

After stripping off his suit jacket, he stood by the couch for a long time, simply watching her.  Loralei Kadin was a mysterious woman.  She had yet to invite him to her place, and he once asked her about it.  She had claimed that her job was closer to him than he was to her.  It was easier for her to come to him.  He hadn't blinked an eye at her explanation, but he often wondered what she was hiding.  Of course, his suspicious side was lording over him, and he tried to shove it back into the very corner of his brain.  He had to learn to trust _someone _who wasn't a part of his daily grind.  It was more than acceptable to him that she was mysterious, that she held onto her secrets dearly, because he was the same.  He hadn't consciously recognized that until he became involved with her.

Donovan sat down at her feet and leaned over her.  His lips placed soft kisses along her leg and up her thigh.  She moaned a little in her sleep, but didn't wake up.  She probably thought she was dreaming.  He smiled at that idea as his lips continued their journey over her body as his nostrils took in the intoxicating smell of her.  By the time his mouth made it up to her lips, he was almost completely on top of her.  He supported the majority of his weight with one hand placed on the back of the couch.  He kissed her lips softly and she responded by kissing him back.  

"Come down here," she whispered against his lips.

He carefully lowered his body atop hers as he kissed her again.  This time, she was fully alert, but kept her eyes closed.  He shifted his body only slightly as she moved her legs to allow his hips to come down between her thighs.  He broke the kiss long enough to unbutton the shirt.  She held her breath, anticipating his touch, and when it came, she let out a trembling sigh.  

"You know, you're a horrible distraction," she whispered as her hand wondered restlessly through his hair.

"Is that so," he asked against her breast.  

He was teasing her incredibly, evilly.  He would draw an erect nipple into his mouth only to release it after a few seconds, then barely touching it with the tip of his tongue before drawing it back between his lips.  "Mmm, yes," she sighed.  "I haven't written a thing all day."

He moved to the other nipple and began the same wicked game.  "I could stop," he suggested after a delicious flick of the tongue.

"No, no," she whispered, "I deserve a break."

Much to her disappointment, he moved away from her tingling nipples and began placing moist kisses between her breasts and down along her ribcage.  "Do you mind if I ask a personal question?"

Loralei was having a hard time concentrating on his words.  She kept her eyes closed tightly.  Nothing would be worse than him watching as her eyeballs rolled up in the back of her head.  She vaguely wondered if he was aware how _good_ he was.  

"Please, Frank, let's not get personal," she said through a shaky giggle.  "But since you have seen me naked, by all means, ask away."

He looked up at her solemnly.  "First, you must open your eyes."

She opened them and briefly propped her body up on her elbows.  She wanted to see the look on his face, the hint of his sexy grin.  "Your question?"

"Do you taste like strawberries _everywhere_," he asked with an evil grin.  It was a question he had asked himself, and right now, he would find an answer either from her or by other means.

"I have no idea," she answered almost comically, "but you're free to find out."

He willingly obliged.  He quickly discovered that she didn't exactly taste like strawberries, but she was sweet and bewitching all the same.

*  *  *

After an exhausting round of intense lovemaking, Jake had convinced Zara to go out with him for food.  She hadn't wanted to leave his apartment.  She was insatiable, and couldn't seem to keep her hands off him.  He needed food, and there was no way he could make it wouldn't putting something in his mouth that didn't involve one of Zara's body parts.  The two of them strolled nonchalantly into the restaurant and found an intimate table in the back.  She tried to play footsy with him the entire time they had placed their orders, and Jake had to fight to keep a straight face.

When the server walked away with their orders in hand, Jake looked up as Frank Donovan came into the restaurant.  He was holding onto the arm of an auburn haired woman.  For a moment, he couldn't take his eyes off her.  He glanced at Zara and focused his eyes on Donovan's date again.  Their body type and skin tone was similar, but their hair color was radically different.  Zara's was fierier where the other woman's was darker.  They could almost be related.  _I never thought I'd have similar taste in women as Donovan_, he thought with a grin.

Donovan noticed Jake as well.  He nodded toward Jake, only taking his eyes away from Loralei's face for a few brief seconds.  However, he quickly found himself doing a double take look at the woman accompanying him.  Like Loralie, she was willowy and fair skinned.  Their hair was quite different.  The other woman's was a bright shade of red that appeared almost brassy.

Loralei noticed that someone behind them was distracting Donovan.  She turned her head and glanced casually over her shoulder.  "Do you know them," she asked.

He looked at her.  "One of them.  The woman I don't know, but she looks a little like you."  

She smiled a little meanly.  "Well, with the exception that bottle job hair of hers."

"And how would you know that," he asked, amused.  There was green in Loralei's eyes that had nothing to do with her eye color.

"Jesus Frank," she replied cattily.  "_Look_ at it.  Tell me there is a natural color like that here on earth."  She cleared her throat and took a sip of water.  "How do you know the man?  Is he a friend of yours?"

He nodded.  "He is."  He didn't elaborate.  He wasn't sure he wanted to tell her that Jake worked with him as well.  It wasn't that he didn't trust her, but she was still new to his life, and he didn't necessarily want to tell her more than she needed to know.  At least not right now.

"He's cute," she said.

It was Donovan's turn to have a little green in his eyes.  "Is that so," he asked.

"Yes, it is."  She leaned forward and kissed his lips very gently.  "But you, dahling, are gorgeous."

"Gorgeous needs to eat before he passes out from hypoglycemia," he said seriously as he eyed the menu before him.

*  *  *

Jake did not spend the night alone, but Donovan did.  He had asked Loralei to stay with him again, but she said she needed to work on her dissertation.  He was satisfied [somewhat] with a passionate kiss goodbye.  He offered to walk her to her car, but she insisted that he go inside and get some rest.  Once his door was closed, he had no idea where she went.

Loralei went up to an apartment in a different building straight across from Donovan's.  Tonight, there was no friend.  The inside of the luxury apartment was nearly bare.  A couple of couches sat at opposite ends of the room and expensive camera equipment was set up between them.  If she were to look into the telephoto lens right at that moment, she would have been able to see right into Donovan's apartment.  She was tempted to look in on him, but decided against it.  The camera would come into play later.  There was a recording device whirring away, and she listened carefully to the tinny sounds emitting from Donovan's bathroom.  Apparently, he was taking a shower.  She went over to the recorder and shut it off.  She hit 'rewind' and began to play back the tape.  She pressed 'forward' until she reached the place when Donovan had come home earlier that day.  She listened to her voice mingled with his as he made love to her.  She shut if off immediately.  She could listen to no more.  Loralei took the tape and destroyed it, replacing it with a new one.   


	6. A Case of Betrayal

A CASE OF BETRAYAL

For the next few days, Loralei avoided Donovan.  He had called her cell a few times and left messages for her to call him, but she didn't.  She couldn't.  She didn't like listening to his voice; it would be too easy to go to him.  She needed time to regroup and get her shit together.  She couldn't lose her focus on the job at hand, and Donovan was so very good at distracting her.  She hated that, hated him for throwing a handful of sugar into her gas tank.  Although she hadn't seen him, she had heard every word, every syllable coming out of his mouth through the recorder.  He talked to himself a lot, especially when he was frustrated.  She wasn't sure how much he knew or how much he had figured out, but she had to be careful.  Donovan didn't need to know all the secrets she kept hidden, not until she was ready.  

On the third day, Donovan took to the streets at lunch.  When the cases were flowing in, he rarely had time to do anything, especially taking a leisurely meal break.  On slow days, he rarely ate at midday because his body was trained to adhere to his strict schedule.  As a result of that, he normally didn't get hungry.  Instead of eating, he often took long walks to clear his head and to deal with the stress of his day-to-day job.  Today was no exception.  He was irritated with his superiors.  They had been promising the team a big case, but nothing had come in.  Worse still, nothing had been filtered to them because of the enormity of this particular case.  Yet, he had heard very little.  He was antsy and on edge.  He didn't like feeling this way.  Of course, Loralei's sudden self-imposed isolation was grating on his nerves more than anything.

It had been almost a full three days since he had seen her last, and his patience was wearing thin.  He had called her numerous times, but she was clearly avoiding him.  The sad part was he didn't know why.  He didn't see any reason why she would suddenly disappear for a few days after seeing him steadily for three weeks.  It didn't make sense.  He had been tempted to go up to the floor where her friend lived to try and find her there, but he had no idea which apartment to visit.  Suddenly suspicious after all this time, he intended to confront her, to demand why she never gave him her address.  Something was not right, and he didn't know what, but he would find out.

For some reason known only to those responsible for twisting fate, Donovan looked up and focused his eyes on a familiar figure directly across the street from where he stood.  It was Loralei.  A dark blue beret covered her hair and her eyes were shielded with a pair of dark sunglasses, but he had no trouble recognizing her.  She sat alone at a small table outside an enormous bookstore.  She didn't seem to be paying attention to the activity around her, and he was certain she hadn't seen him.  Her eyes were focused on something placed on the table before her.  He was tempted to trot across the street and demand that she tell him why she had been ducking him.  Right when he had worked his nerve up, she took out a cell phone and began speaking into it.  She stood and walked away from the table.  Intrigued and morbidly curious, Donovan crossed the street and followed behind her from a safe distance.  

Although the street was crowded and noisy, her voice carried back.  She seemed to be arguing with the caller, but he couldn't make out any specific words.  He continued to follow behind her and debated with himself.  He didn't know whether he should catch hold of her or simply keep back out of the way.  He was close to uncovering her secrets, and he wasn't sure if he wanted to do that.  Perhaps his relationship with her was best left like it was.  He had no doubt in his mind that she wanted him, and she would see him in time.  Yet, another part of him wanted to know what was going on once and for all.  Following her was his only option at this point, because she certainly wouldn't volunteer the information otherwise.

She stopped walking and stood in the middle of the sidewalk.  From his vantage point a few feet behind, he watched curiously.  He saw her take off her sunglasses and wipe her eyes.  Was she crying?  And if so, why?  He again had been tempted to approach her, but she recovered quickly, and put the sunglasses back on.  She snapped her phone closed and picked up the pace again.  Donovan caught up quickly enough.  She kept walking at a brisk pace straight ahead.  This was crazy, utterly mad.  He should have let it go and went back to the office.  He couldn't.  There was no way he could drop it now.  There was too much at stake, including his heart.

Loralei rounded a corner and Donovan had to struggle to keep up with her.  He recognized the area.  His apartment building was located several blocks down the way, and beyond that were the ritzier, more high-priced apartments.  She continued to make her way down the street.  She didn't stop or look back once.  She had a purpose in mind, and was solely focused on that.  Donovan had no clear idea how long he had followed her, but he knew his apartment was at least twenty or more city blocks away from downtown.

She didn't stop at his building.  She plodded along past it and went to the one a few blocks down.  It was in a more expensive district where the tenants made no less than six figures per year.  He didn't understand why she wouldn't tell him where she lived.  He couldn't fight away the mixed emotions coursing through him.  What the hell was going on?  Why did he suddenly feel as if he had been misled for the past month?  He didn't immediately follow her inside.  Instead, he watched as the doorman opened the door for her.  When she left his field of vision, he stood still for a few moments before turning in the opposite direction to begin the exhausting walk back.  He could have hailed a taxi, but he needed to gather his thoughts.

Donovan stopped walking for a moment.  He had to know.  If he didn't press forward now, he never would.  He was sure he looked like an idiot standing in the middle of the busy street doing nothing.  He couldn't imagine the thoughts of the wealthy pedestrians as they passed him.  In his black attire and overcoat, he probably looked like a terrorist.  He turned back around and made his way toward the expansive apartment building.  The doorman didn't want to allow him entrance, but he relented when Donovan stared him down.  He would probably call the police.

The lobby of the building had a concierge.  He wondered if the kid behind the counter would tell him where Loralei's apartment was.  Donovan immediately intimidated him, but his face was friendly and open.

"May I help you," he said with a nervous smile.

"I hope you can.  Could you tell me where I can find Loralei Kadin?"

"I can buzz her apartment and have her come down."

Although he didn't like using his shield for non-official purposes, he whipped it out anyway.  He didn't want Loralei knowing he was here.  He wanted to surprise her, and then confront her.  He refused to leave today until she answered his questions.  The kid stared down at the badge with a fascinated kind of awe in his eyes.

"I'm here on official business," he lied smoothly.  "Which apartment is hers?"

Donovan chose to take the stairs.  It would give him more time to decide how to approach her.  He knew she would be angry, because this act clearly revealed how shakily he trusted her.  Yet, he couldn't help it.  He had to have some answers.  He approached the last flight of stairs to the door leading to her floor.  He took a deep breath, opened it, and stepped through.  He saw a sign pointing to the left that would lead him to her apartment.  He found it moments later.  He stared at the door for what seemed like an hour or more.  He hated the thought of hurting her, but what other choice did he have?  He knocked on the door and stood back.

He waited with baited breath as he heard footsteps approaching the door.  However, it wasn't Loralei who opened the door.  It was a man.  There was slight recognition in the other man's eyes that Donovan couldn't explain [he had no idea who this man was], but he wiped it away quickly and put on a nice poker face.

"Who are you," he demanded.

He couldn't see the inside of the apartment, but he was sure Loralei was inside.  "Nobody," he said sedately.  "I'm out of my league here."  He nodded at him and turned away.

After the federal agent disappeared, he turned to Loralei.  "What was that all about?"

She sat on the couch with her hands covering her face.  She had no idea that Donovan had been following her.  Or did she?  She wanted him to find out, she wanted the lies to end.  She had already overstepped the bounds when she slept with him.  But now, everything was totally fucked up.  She uncovered her face.  "I don't know," she lied.

*  *  *

Donovan sat in his darkened living room.  What had just happened?  The man inside Loralei's apartment had eyed him very briefly as if he knew who he was, but he had never seen him before.  Was she married?  Was that why he seemed to know him?  Did he know they had slept together?  Although he was still confused, things were beginning to come together and made sense.  He thought back to the weeks she had denied him, refused his advances, and wouldn't invite him to her place.  It was all due to the fact she was attached to someone else.  It was devastating, and he couldn't quite comprehend it all.

His cell phone chirped sharply.  He recognized the tone as an incoming text message.  At first, he almost ignored it.  However, his curiosity overwhelmed him.  He flipped open the phone and punched a button to retrieve the message.  _Meet me where we had our first date_.  Unbelievably, he stared down at the message and read it again, and then read it once more for good measure.  It was clearly from Loralei.  He didn't want to see her, not after today, but something about her had left an imprint on him, and he had to go.  He grabbed his jacket and headed out the door.

The restaurant was crowded, but Donovan spotted Loralei right away.  He approached the table and noticed that she appeared hurt, ashamed, angry, and embarrassed all at the same time.  His heart ached fiercely.  He didn't like being played for a fool, and he didn't make it a habit to sleep with married women, but as he looked at her, his heart fluttered ever so slightly.  It had only been three days since he last saw her, but it felt more like a year.  

"Please sit down and let me explain," she whispered.

He pulled out a chair and sat down stiffly.  He was mad as hell, but was desperately trying to hold it back.  "Explain _what_, Loralei?  Why didn't you tell me you were married?  _Why_?  You're all I think about, all I want, and now I must face the reality that you were lying to me."

She lowered her head and sighed.  His eyes had never left her, but she couldn't meet his gaze.  "Frank, you don't understand."

"_What_ is it that I _don't_ understand," he demanded.  She didn't speak, didn't look up.  He reached out to her and lifted her chin.  "Look at me, Loralei," he whispered harshly.  "Look at me and tell me what I don't understand."

Loralei had no clear idea what she was going to say.  She was confused and messed up.  "I wasn't supposed to sleep with you, I wasn't supposed to even _kiss_ you.  I wasn't…"  Her voice died out.  She could say nothing more.  She sat back in her chair so his hand would fall away from her face.  She didn't want him to touch her again.

"No shit," he said, harsher than he intended.  However, he had been cut, and cut deeply.  He felt the need to hurt back.  "Fidelity is a big thing in marriage.  I'm single, and even _I _know that."

"Would you stop being so hateful and _listen_.  I'm trying…trying to tell you," she said.  She didn't want to cry, but it was a struggle.  "I didn't expect I'd want you so much, that I'd _need_ you, but it happened, and I don't know why.  I'm not who you think I am, Frank."

His eyes bored into her.  The look had changed from a steady gaze to a glare.  "That's patently obvious.  I don't enjoy these cutting mind games.  I do that enough at work.  I don't expect it at home, and I don't want it."  He pushed his chair back and stood.  "I can't continue this.  I don't want to see you again."

Loralei sighed heavily as he left her.  He didn't want to see her again.  It was almost funny because he had little choice in the matter.  He was thinking like a man, not an agent, and if he could have seen through his heartbroken fog, he might have figured it out.  Blinded by hurt, sidetracked by desire, he had no clue.  She buried her face in her hands and sobbed.  If he had only opened his eyes…

*  *  *

Donovan went to work early.  He had a hard time sleeping the night before.  Loralei had literally torn his heart out and spit on it, and he wasn't sure how long it would take for it to heal.  He still couldn't believe it.  He was physically sick and more than upset, but he had to put it out of his mind.  He was wearing a different hat today.  He would need the use of his entire brain.  The directives he had waited for were to be sent today, along with two FBI agents.

He briefly skimmed over the scant information that had come in from the central office.  The FBI had been tracking a female serial killer who was reported to be in or around the area.  She was a black widow type killer who had been charged with four counts of homicide, with one other charge pending in Texas.  From what Donovan understood, the FBI had requested the assistance of his specialized team.  They needed both him and Jake to go in undercover as wealthy businessmen.  He groaned inwardly.  The assignment wasn't everything it had been hyped up to be.  Not only that, but there weren't enough details on the sheet.  However, he and the team were to be briefed as soon as the agents working the case arrived for the 9:00 a.m. meeting.  He hoped no one, especially Jake, would be late.

As it turned out, the only ones who were late were the FBI agents.  Donovan and the gang sat around the conference table discussing what little they knew.  Donovan's eyes fixed on Jake every now and then.  He seemed a bit on the tired side.  A part of him was insanely jealous.  A few days ago, he had had a reason to be tired, but not anymore.  He couldn't begrudge him for his seeming exhausted happiness, but it hurt thinking of Loralei.  _I must stop this_, he thought.  He cursed her, and he cursed himself for still wanting her.

"I'm sorry we're late, Agent Donovan."

Donovan looked up suddenly at the two agents.  He had been drifting again.  If it weren't for the extreme control he insisted on maintaining through whatever hell broke loose, he would have fallen right out of his chair.  One agent was male, the other female.  The man he only halfway looked at.  His eyes were riveted on the woman.  Jake saw her as well, and immediately recognized her.  Loralei.  


	7. Questions And Answers

QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS

All eyes appeared to be on Donovan and Loralei.  He had yet to look away.  He had yet to even _try_ to look away.  None of them knew why their boss was staring at the woman hard enough to nearly knock her flat.  Jake was more confused than any of them.  He knew this woman, knew that Donovan had been seeing her, and she was an _agent_?  It seemed as if nothing made sense anymore.  Either that, or Zara was wearing him out, and he was simply too exhausted to think straight.

Jake leaned toward Donovan.  "Did you know about this," he stage-whispered.

He said nothing.  He was completely unable to vocalize.  Instead, he shook his head.  He had yet to take his eyes off Loralei.  His angered hurt had suddenly bloomed even hotter than before.  She had been lying to him about more than a 'husband.'  He had recognized her partner as the man who answered the door.  He had thought her secret was that she was married.  But lo and behold, she held an even bigger secret.  She was goddamn FBI.  Donovan came close to calling a break before the meeting began.  He had to get out and get air before his anger suffocated him.  However, there was little time for that.  Loralei was holding his ire drenched gaze.  She had tried to explain it to him, but he wouldn't listen, and now he was even angrier.  She had so much to tell him, but she was certain he would not listen.

"Can we get this meeting started," Loralei said suddenly, needing to get Donovan's eyes off her face.

Her desire to begin did not break his gaze one bit.  He wasn't sure if he could proceed without knowing the entire truth.  When Donovan didn't say a word, Loralei began handing out files that she had made a few days ago while her partner set up the slide projector.  She didn't make direct eye with Donovan at all.  She handed him his copy and moved on.  He followed her with his eyes during the whole process.  By the time each person had his or her own file, her partner had taken a seat at the table, but she couldn't.  She had to move around, had to get away from his eyes.  Purposely, she stood at the very end of table so she could look down at her notes and run the projector.

"First of all," she began, "I would like to introduce myself and my partner.  I'm Loralei Kadin, and this is Bart Jackson.  We've been working on the case since it was transferred to our region."  She waited expectantly for one of them to begin introducing Donovan's team to her and her partner.  She recognized the young man sitting to Donovan's left, but she didn't know his name.

Donovan started at her hatefully.  She clearly expected him to introduce his team, but he couldn't yet vocalize.  He was afraid that if he opened his mouth, he would start yelling.  Cody took the initiative and introduced the team to the two agents.  He stopped when he came to Donovan.  It seemed as if they were already 'acquainted.'  Donovan finally took his eyes off Loralei's face and focused them momentarily on Cody.

"Introductions won't be necessary," he said icily before fixing his eyes back on her face.

Monica and Alex exchanged a knowing glance.  They finally figured it out.  The auburn haired agent must have been the woman responsible for keeping Donovan at home in bed instead of at work on time.  Apparently, he wasn't aware of her status.

"Very well," Loralei said without meeting Donovan's gaze.  "This woman is very cunning and heartless."  [_I could say the same about you_, Donovan thought].  His hurt radiated off him in slow waves.  It was disturbing, and she couldn't concentrate.  She cleared her throat and continued, "She has murdered at least four men that we're aware of, and she has probably inherited millions of dollars.  She's young and attractive but has an affinity for older men.  She researches her potential husbands down to what their favorite foods are.  When she has a man in her grasp, she marries him, and then finds a way to get rid of him.  Would someone please hit the lights?"  She watched as the one named Alex walked over and killed the lights.  Donovan was still staring at her, boring his eyes into her.  He wasn't paying attention to anything she said.  She turned on the projector and clicked a button.  "This is Cedrick Clawson.  He was the Black Heart's last known victim.  We haven't exactly proven she killed him, but his wife, Sam Crump, is now missing.  She also fits the profile."  She clicked the button and an obscured photo appeared.  "This is the best photograph that we have of BHK."  

Donovan didn't bother looking; his eyes were glued to Loralei.  The rest of the team looked up.  The photograph wasn't all that great, but they saw the striking mane of bright red hair.

Loralei continued:  "As you see, her hair is very long and a unique shade of red.  Through all the interviews and research we've conducted, her hair length is her only static trait.  Her other distinguishing feature is a crooked tooth.  Of course, we realize that there is a possibility she may have altered her appearance, shortened her hair, or even had her teeth fixed.  BHK has inherited more money than any of us will ever have in our lifetimes."  She needed to address Jake and Donovan directly, but instead of meeting Donovan's gaze, she focused her eyes on Jake's face.  "Agents Shaw and Donovan, both of you have features that our girl finds attractive.  That's why we wanted you to pose as wealthy businessmen to draw her in.  Your profiles can be found in the files I gave you.  Study your identities.  It won't take long for her to scope you out and strike."

Finally, after so long a time without speaking, Donovan found his voice.  "You know a lot about her, don't you, Agent Kadin?"

There was an accusation in his voice she didn't like.  "When a vicious killer is on the loose, you damn well better expect me to do my homework.  I hope I can count on you to do the same."

Alex, Cody, Monica, and Jake exchanged a look between them:  _What the hell was **that** all about_?

Loralei tore her eyes off Donovan and went back to her slide show.  She rambled on about the dead men, but she couldn't concentrate very well.  Every now and then, Jackson would have to prompt her on points she missed.  She knew that Donovan was readying for battle, and he would not let her go easily today.  She wanted to talk to him, she owed him an explanation.  Would he talk to her?  She wasn't sure.

Once she had finished showing the slides and giving them the information they would need, Jackson took over to answer questions and fill in any holes that Loralei had missed.  She had missed a lot, she was sure.  She had had enough of Donovan's hatred and anger.  She needed a quick breath of air.  Donovan watched her leave the room, and for a moment, he was relieved.  His eyes were burning miserably from staring at her so long.  He excused himself and made his way toward the bathroom.  Inside, he splashed several hands full of cold water on his face.  _Get hold of yourself_.  He hastily dried off his face and went back into the conference room.  His team was still engrossed in conversation with Agent Jackson.  He quietly slipped away and went outside to search for Loralei.

It didn't take long to find her.  She was standing just short of the front steps to the building.  She hadn't noticed Donovan yet.  He found his eyes once again wondering to her face.  There were many things he wanted to do to her, including kissing her, but he put that impulse way in the back of his mind.  He once again found himself needing answers, and he was hell bent to get them.

Loralei sensed his presence and she turned to face him.  His gaze had not changed one iota, but she was glad he had come out.  She wanted to tell him everything.  "Frank," she began.

He held up his hand, interrupting her.  "Don't say anything for a minute.  Let me speak.  Okay?"  She nodded and watched him carefully.  "Why couldn't you say something sooner?  That's all I want to know.  I don't care to hear anything else."  He was lying, of course.  He wanted to hear it all.

She seemed to sense he hadn't meant what he said, and for a moment, it eased her mind.  It meant he still cared.  "I don't want to talk to you about this out here.  Would you meet me somewhere?"

"Where do you suggest," he asked sarcastically, "_your _place?"  He shook his head; his expression was one of deep confusion.  However, it was meant to be mocking and hurtful.  "Oh, that's right.  _You_ don't have a place."

"You bastard," she sighed.  "Frank, _please_."

He wanted to apologize, he was genuinely sorry.  He could control just about every emotion inside him, but sometimes, his malevolent side came out no matter how hard he fought it.  He sighed and chewed thoughtfully on his bottom lip for a few seconds.  "All right, Loralei.  I'll meet you here in about four hours.  I'll send everyone away."

"Thank you, Frank."

He shook his head.  "Don't thank me.  You owe me, Loralei, and it takes a lot to settle a debt for which I'm due.  Do you understand?"

"Yes, I understand clearly," she said softly.

*  *  *

It didn't take much to have the office cleared in four hours.  Donovan sent them all away to get sleep.  Tonight, they would meet at the office and set up to begin hunting down the Black Heart Killer.  Donovan waited for Loralei impatiently.  She was running late, and he was convinced she had changed her mind.  Exasperated, he collected his things and started to leave.  He caught Loralei at the door.  In fact, she nearly ran into him.  He stepped back and led the way back inside.  He said nothing to her.  For now, he wanted her to do all the talking.  He took her up to his office in case some of the others returned early.  He didn't intend to allow her to leave until he was satisfied.

He sat at his desk and she was forced to seat herself in a visitor's chair parked in front of him.  She felt awkward, as if she had been called to the principal's office.  She didn't know how to begin.  There was so much to say, so much to tell him, and she hoped he would understand.  She had no doubt their affair was over, but she _needed _his forgiveness.  

She sighed and opened her mouth, not sure what would come out.  "I was sent ahead of my partner to set up surveillance on you.  When we met by accident in the parking garage, I was looking for you then, but I didn't know who you were until you told me your name.  I thought that if I became acquainted with you, I'd have better access, but I didn't think I'd become attracted to you."

When she stopped talking, he sat back and allowed her words to sink in.  His shock and devastation grew.  "Surveillance?  What the hell do you mean?"

"Frank, would you please let me do this?  I was sent to keep this killer from targeting you.  A woman was seen following you for a few days before she disappeared.  I'm certain this was our girl.  I don't know why she took her attention off you.  I was to monitor every move you made just in case she made contact with you.  The apartment you came to is directly across from yours.  We had cameras set up to take pictures, and I planted a bug just underneath your couch."

"Was it all an act, Loralei," he asked darkly.  He was tempted to throw her out of his office for good.  "You had my apartment bugged?  You set up surveillance cameras to watch me as if I were some type of criminal?  I don't understand the motivation of the FBI anymore.  You are the most unorthodox agent I have ever had the displeasure to meet.  Did you record _everything_?  _Did you_?  Did you record the nights I fucked you?  Was that part of your great 'getting acquainted with me' scheme?  _Was it_?"  He had clasped his hands onto the arms of his chair to keep from going after her.

His words were like speeding bullets.  Each one hit her hard, puncturing her flesh.  "Frank, you have to understand," she began meekly.  "That was never a part of it.  _Never_.  It wasn't my intention to seduce you.  Why do you think I fought so hard?  I didn't want any of this to happen, but I was helpless to stop it."

"Do you expect me to believe this shit," he spat.  "Why didn't you back away when I was no longer this predator's target?  Why are you still here?"

"I don't care if you believe me or not, Frank.  It's the truth.  I didn't back away, because I _couldn't_.  Do you think I enjoyed hurting you, hurting myself?  If that's what you think, Frank, _you're_ the asshole.  I got involved with you, and I shouldn't have, but I couldn't help it, I couldn't back away."  She stood and leaned forward, placing her hands flat on his desk.  She fixed a stony gaze on his face.  "I'm here because the threat is still very real.  We have to stop this woman before she kills again.  I didn't set out to hurt you, and I'm sorry I did, but I'm not sorry about what we had.  Hate me all you want, but do it later.  Right now, I _need_ you.  Once this case is closed, you'll never see me again."

Did he want that?  Did he want her to disappear?  God, what was he going to do?  For weeks, she had consumed his entire soul, possessed him to a degree he could never fathom.  Those feelings were still inside him, but he had nowhere to put them.  Even as much as he hated her at that moment, he wanted her.  How long would it take for him to drag her across his desk and strip her naked?  Ten minutes?  Five?  One?  Damn her.  Damn her to hell.

"Get out, Agent Kadin," he spat severely.  "I can't look at you right now."  He wasn't exactly being honest.  He was actually afraid of attacking her, making love to her on his desk.  He didn't want to act on that impulse, to subject himself to more of her lies.

"Okay, Frank," she said.  "I never meant to hurt you."

If she didn't leave soon, he couldn't be held responsible for what would happen.  "_Get out_."

Without another word, she turned away from him and left.  Donovan sat at his desk for thirty minutes or more trying to get himself together.  When he felt halfway normal, he went to his apartment and turned over his couch.  He found the bug quickly enough.  Before he crushed it to tiny bits, he growled, "Fuck off."


	8. Futility

FUTILITY

After leaving Donovan's office, Loralei walked back toward the apartment building.  It was time to pack up the equipment and leave the luxury apartment.  Spying on Donovan hadn't gotten her anywhere.  In fact, it worsened her entire existence.  He wasn't the target.  She had been wrong about that, wrong about a lot of things.  As she strolled easily down the sidewalk, her mind began to wonder.  Loralei had seen Donovan days before her chance meeting with him.  She hadn't lied when she said she didn't know who he was, but she had found out sooner than she said.  It happened not long after she spotted him walking down the busy city street.  He stood tall and confident, sexy and self-assured.  She watched as a young woman followed him.  She couldn't make out the color of her hair because it was all tucked beneath a fashionable black hat.  As she told Donovan, she was almost certain that this person was the killer.  She found herself following behind the other woman.  When she veered around a corner, Loralei lost track of her, but she didn't immediately stop following the tall stranger.  She wanted to see where his destination was, to find out if he was the next wealthy fly for the cruelest black widow of them all.

The man walked briskly toward a building and took the front steps two at a time until he was out of sight.  She had recognized the building; of course, it was federal, just like her own.  She immediately went back to headquarters and started digging for information.  If he was to be the intended target of BHK, she wanted to immediately set up some type of surveillance and protection.  He would have to be informed of the potential danger.  Of course, she didn't quite have the proper security clearance to uncover the man's profile.  She had then voiced her suspicions to her superiors.  Within moments, she had learned his name and his address.  She had intended to follow through legitimately, to contact him agent to agent.  However, her plan backfired [as was often the case].  

She had created her cover as an overwhelmed doctoral student while sitting behind the wheel of her rented Jag.  She had even gone so far as to check out dozens of books ranging from criminological theories to actual profiles of serial killers.  As she sat and pondered her next move, her clumsiness prevailed.  She had gotten out of the car to dig for her cell phone in the backseat of the passenger's side.  In the process, she knocked out half her books as well as her directives.  Before she knew what was happening, her 'mission' was right in her face, _helping_ her, saving the day.  Her attraction had been instantaneous, flustering her, confusing her.  She didn't like feeling that way, she liked to have and maintain control.  She tried to tell herself that she accepted his unexpected dinner invitation due to her job.  However, that was not exactly true.  She had _wanted_ to be with him.  There was something about him, something special.  

The day after she met him, she immediately began to dig for information.  It was at that time she learned of his special agent [SA] status.  He was former FBI, but for reasons known only to the federal hierarchy, his records were sealed.  She had hit another brick wall.  Of course, her mission was not yet complete, and although she had thought about breaking their date, she had to feel him out, learn his routine, so that she could set up proper surveillance.  When she met him for dinner, she had genuinely lost her mind.  When he kissed her later, she realized she had gotten herself in a terrible mess.  He continued to see him, lying to herself the whole time, denying that she wanted more from him than to 'protect' him.  Even after she felt her hunch was wrong, she continued to linger around him.  She had fought valiantly against his advances for three weeks, but he finally won the battle.  She had given in, she couldn't resist.  

Loralei couldn't express the utter devastation she felt whenever he touched or kissed her.  She thought of nothing but him day and night; she couldn't wait to see him.  In the back of her mind, she knew she was only supposed to be doing her job.  In her heart, something altogether different was going on.  How many times had she been snuggled next to Donovan aching to tell him the truth?  How many times had she tried to leave, but couldn't?  She had wanted him so much, she still wanted him.  

She didn't realize she had walked past the apartment building until the doorman spoke to her.  Dazed, she turned around and walked back.  There was a lot to do before she met the UC team tonight.  She had to drive thoughts of Frank Donovan out of her head before she ended up shooting herself in the foot.

Her partner seemed to be awaiting her.  "What the hell is going on between you and that SA, Kadin," he demanded.

Although Loralei had uncovered more information about BHK than anyone in the Bureau, Jackson was _her_ superior.  He was deemed lead agent before she was even given a shot.  It was also her first _real_ case, and she had already failed.  However, she had a good relationship with him; he was like an overprotective big brother.  "There's nothing going on, Bart.  Really."  She had learned early in her career how to lie effectively.  She had held Donovan captive to her lies for weeks.

"Don't lie to _me_.  Remember, _I _trained you.  Donovan found the bug.  He shouted out a nice petulant 'fuck off' before crushing it.  What's going on?"

She ignored Jackson for several minutes and worked on tearing down the camera equipment.  If she told him what had happened, she would never be taken seriously again.  The Bureau frowned highly upon behavior such as hers.  _How worse can things truly get_, she thought.  Donovan hated her, and she couldn't blame him.  In fact, she probably hated herself more than he did.  She was tempted to take the equipment and hurl it out the high-rise window.  It had been responsible for her poor choices and broken heart.  

"Kadin," he said, "are you going to answer me?"

Loralei flung a tripod violently across the room.  It hit the couch on the left with a soft thud.  Jackson said nothing.  He had seen this type of tantrum before, and he knew from experience not to interfere.  "What the fuck," she whispered with resignation.  "I told him everything," she said.  "I had to.  I screwed up, Bart, I fucked up everything.  He wasn't a _mission_ or a _job_.  He was my lover."

"Oh God, kid, please tell me you didn't," he groaned.

"I'd be lying if I did," she said.  A bitter laugh escaped her.  "I do that so well."  

"Forget it now, Agent Kadin.  We won't deal with it until we have who we came after.  We have to work with Donovan and his team.  We cannot do this without them."

She nodded.  "I know this, Bart," she whispered harshly.  "It was the same thing I told Frank.  I fucked up so very thoroughly, and if we had time, I'd back out."

*  *  *

Loralei, Jackson, and Donovan all sat together awkwardly awaiting the arrival of the other agents.  Donovan was finally able to keep his gaze averted from Loralei's face, but it was difficult all the same.  He still couldn't get his mind off their conversation earlier.  He had the greatest urge to simply bridge the widening gap between him and Loralei.  She had touched him, rocked his foundation.  Yet, his stubborn male pride had locked away his practicality.  He wasn't listening to his heart anymore.  Look at the trouble it had gotten him in.  Although he had sworn off gazing at her, Donovan couldn't help glancing at her.  She was nervous.  It was obvious in her body language.  She was fidgety and kept chewing on her thumbnail.  If she didn't calm herself, if she didn't learn to control her nerves, she wouldn't last long.  She felt his eyes on her, and for a moment, she met his gaze.  His eyes seemed to strip her naked, and she immediately felt vulnerable.

"Tell us who you are," a voice suddenly asked.  

Both Donovan and Loralei took their eyes off each other and fixed their gazes on Bart Jackson.  He had felt horribly caught in the middle of some awful lovers' quarrel, and he needed to get the focus drawn away from the tension and back onto the assignment.  There was no room for this.  A man was set to die, and they had to stop it.  After, they could fuck like bunnies if they wanted.

Donovan silently thanked the agent for breaking the tense silence.  The 'script' was hideous, of course, but would only be used if the red haired fiend with the crooked teeth approached him.  "I'm Baron Gunnar Holden," he said, affecting a passable German accent.  "The family business is oil and diamonds.  I'm forty years old and own a castle in England and five mansions in Scotland."  He fixed a stony gaze on Loralei.  "My weakness is redheads."

She looked away from him for a moment and focused her eyes on her hands.  How in the hell did she think she could work with him?  How would she ever earn his trust again?  Would he simply keep looking over his shoulder the whole time?

"It wasn't difficult to memorize," Donovan said, cutting his eyes at her again.  "I think I can act.  I have watched and been with the best."

_He is vicious, utterly, coldly vicious_.  She stared at him, throwing daggers, knifes, swords, razors, and on and on.  "Agent Donovan, is there a problem," she asked through clenched teeth.

He shook his head.  "Not at all," he said, cruelly exaggerating his innocence in the matter.  "It's a shame the killer isn't a man.  If he were, I think you would make an excellent seductress."

"I think you might make an excellent human being once you dig your head out of your ass," she said through a glittering, bitter smile.  

_Oh God_, Jackson groaned inwardly.  Why didn't the two of them go off in a locked room and duke it out already?  Or perhaps they'd rather settle things between the sheets?  He didn't care which they chose, because this was getting ridiculous.  The longer he stayed between them, the worse the tension grew.  He wished the other agents would fucking get here so they could meet, disperse, and do their jobs.

"I need to take a smoke break," Jackson announced suddenly.

Loralei watched as Jackson left the conference room.  She had done it again.  They had to get past this.  She looked over at Donovan, and he had finally looked away.  He had propped his elbow on the table and hooded his eyes with his hand.  His head ached sickly.  He couldn't get past the anger or hurt.  He couldn't get past wanting her so badly he ached.  He was a goddamn professional, and he had allowed a woman to screw up his ethics.  Her lies and his hurt and anger weren't at issue.  The death of innocent people was the _only_ important thing here.  His focus was shot now, and he wasn't sure how long it would take him to get it back.

She moved away from the table and stood.  She couldn't stand to be near him.  If she could play the game again, she was certain she would do everything differently.  If she could only go back and erase the last few weeks, it may not have gotten so fucked up so quickly.  If only… 

"I'm sorry," he said without looking her way.

"No you're not.  You're not sorry about any damn thing.  Just admit it, Frank, it's okay.  I'm a fuck up, go ahead and say it.  I know that's what you're thinking," she spat.

He looked at her, fixing her with a gaze she had come to love, a gaze that had the ability to boil her blood.  "How could you possibly know what I'm thinking," he demanded.  "We've been living a lie for the past month, Loralei.  How do you know _anything_?"

"You're such a self-centered…_man_," she spat, unable to think of anything sassy to come back at him.  She approached him and stood over him, suddenly feeling that she had the upper hand for the first time since he had discovered her secrets.  "I didn't lie about my feelings.  I didn't lie when I was making love to you.  Call it fucking if you want, you _man_, but we both know what we had was more than that.  But if you want to play that game, knock yourself the fuck out, Frank Donovan.  I'm sick of you, sick of your juvenile prick behavior.  Looking at you now, I'm not even sure what drew me to you.  How stupid was I to even think you were anything more than the typical testosterone driven…_MAN_.I can't even _begin _to explain what I _liked_ about you, because right now, I can see nothing."    

Loralei stepped away from him, finally relieved to have had her say.  She noticed that he had kept the same look on his face throughout her tirade.  Slowly, he stood up, not taking his eyes off her once.  She wasn't altogether sure if he intended to slap her, shake her, or throw her out the window.  She didn't back away from him; she stood her ground and challenged him.  With her eyes, she _dared_ him to touch her.  She wasn't stupid, she knew he could easily overpower her, but she was a trained fighter and could give him a run for his money.  With one swift move, his hands clamped down on her upper arms.  He stared down into her eyes, and she waited patiently before making a move.  She was tense and alert, her heart pounded sickly in her chest.  She had never felt like this before.  She readied to strike.

"I know what you liked about me," he said before mashing his mouth down onto hers.

His unexpected kiss caught her off guard.  Never in a thousand years would she have anticipated it.  She struggled against him and tried to prevent his insistent tongue from invading her mouth.  He didn't loosen his grip; he pressed forward brutally, forcing her lips apart, conquering and dividing.  She was helpless, caught in a trap that she really didn't want to escape.  She could no longer fight; she no longer _wanted _to fight.  Her lips softened against his, and her arms relaxed. Instead of trying to slug him, her arms were fighting to go around him.  He didn't release her, as he didn't quite trust her yet.  

Crazily, she felt her body spinning and then the edge of the conference table was digging at the small of her back, just a couple of inches above her buttocks.  At that point, he finally loosened his grip on her arms.  He broke the kiss and stared down at her hungrily.  She once again saw images of the wolf and the rabbit at the final showdown.  With an animalistic snarl obscuring her face, she took hold of his lapels.  For a moment, he thought she was going to punch him.  Instead, she jerked him forward and gave him a taste of his own medicine.  She kissed him hard, nibbling at his lips, _biting_ them.  Her kiss was so intense, he felt as if she were trying to suck every bit of air out of his lungs.

When she finally broke the kiss, her chest rose and fell rapidly.  She wanted nothing more than to make love to him until there was no fluid left in his body.  Yet, that wasn't to be.  They had kissed.  Big whoop.  It didn't matter that they had nearly devoured each other in the process.  Nothing was resolved, not really, and there was no time for it.  Without a word, she pushed him away and moved past him.  He shook his head in disbelief.  _What the fuck_?  His lip was bleeding from where she had bitten him.  

*  *  *

"Jake?  Where are you going," Zara asked. 

He was sitting up on the side of the bed, trying to get dressed.  He kept glancing at his wristwatch.  He was late.  Donovan would kill him, and probably do so creatively.  Zara was getting a little clingy.  He was with her seven days a week and had hardly had a break.  She was pushing him to move in with her.  He wasn't ready for that kind of commitment yet.  The sex was great, but there was nothing more.  Thoughts of breaking it off with her had entered his mind more than once.

"I have to go to work, baby," he said.  "Go back to sleep.  I won't be home for a while."

She sat up and wrapped her arms around his waist.  "Do you have to go?"

He nodded.  "Yeah, but I'll be back."  He removed her arms and turned to face her.  "I need to talk to you when I get back.  Okay?"

She smiled.  Zara was sure he was going to ask her to move in.  "Okay."  She placed a soft kiss on his lips.  "I love you."

_This would be difficult_.  "Go to sleep," he said.

*  *  *

Jake was the last of the BHK crew to show up.  Everyone else was seated around the table.  He expected Donovan's wrath to fall at any moment.  However, he didn't say a word.  He was sullen and brooding.  Oddly, his bottom lip appeared to be swollen just the tiniest bit.  His eyes quickly went to Loralei.  _What the hell_?

"Glad you could make it, Agent Shaw," Loralei said.

He ignored the biting sarcasm in her words.  "What's the plan?"

Loralei sighed, purposely avoiding Donovan.  He had fixed his eyes on her again the moment she began speaking.  "We're throwing a party."  


	9. The Party

THE PARTY

Jake slipped into his darkened apartment after the meeting.  He knew he had to suck it up and be a man.  He peeked into the bedroom and was stunned.  The bed was empty, perfectly made.  A little upset, he went to the phone and dialed Zara's number.  Her answering machine kicked on after one ring.  _What the hell_?  He tried calling her the next day and the day after that, but could never reach her.

*  *  *

She read the paper daily; she enjoyed thumbing through it.  It, especially the society page, provided a good hunting ground for her.  She was always thinking of her next victim.  A short blurb in the middle of the column caught her eye:  _Baron Gunnar Holden will hold a $2000 per plate fundraiser for children's cancer research_.  Below the announcement was a phone number to call to arrange for tickets.  Her eyes lit up brightly.  Interesting.  Very interesting.  She had never heard of this fellow before, but she had the money and the time.  She would be at this party to check him out.  He would be her next victim after she eliminated this one.  It wouldn't hurt to peek in on the party and at least 'bump' into him.  She had to go shopping for the perfect dress.

*  *  *

Loralei had gone out the day after the strategic planning meeting and had the blurb added to the society page.  She was certain that BHK would read it and appear.  She had picked a legitimate charity in which to donate any funds generated, but it still didn't stop her from feeling like a fraud.  She had decided that as soon as this assignment was over, she was transferring over to BSU [Behavioral Sciences Unit].  She couldn't take this undercover crap any longer.  Since the party was Loralei's idea, she had been elected to arrange it.  She honestly didn't mind.  She literally threw herself into the job.  It kept her mind occupied with something that almost didn't have a thing to do with Frank Donovan.  There were dozens of people to inform, but her superiors had given her free reign.  BHK would either go after Donovan or Jake, who had the role of Holden's equally wealthy cousin.

She didn't feel very comfortable sending either of the men in, but she especially felt ill at ease regarding Donovan's presence.  Her feelings were ridiculous, of course.  He was well trained and could probably take out a person twice his size.  Yet, exposing him to the killer, even for a very short time, was disturbing her.  She didn't want anything to happen to him.  _Why should I care?  Why should I give one ripe fuck about him?  He's nothing to me, absolutely positively NOTHING_.  Of course, that was a lie.  She didn't want to admit it, but he was everything she had ever wanted, but would never have again.

On the night of the party, it was bitterly cold.  Loralei and her partner were on their way to UC headquarters to meet and finish up the final preparations.  Each person had some role to play tonight.  Cody and Monica were to monitor and listen outside.  Alex would attend the party as a 'guest' and help keep watch for BHK.  Loralei and Jackson were posing as aides to Donovan and Jake.  Before they arrived, Loralei and Jackson tossed a coin to see which of them would be with Jake and which would be with Donovan.  Of course, as fate would have it, Loralei lost and would be stuck with Donovan.  She wondered if God had a twisted sense of humor.  

When Loralei laid her eyes on Donovan, she had to fight to keep her jaw from dropping.  He was decked out in a basic black tuxedo and looked every inch the German aristocrat.  _Goddamn_, she thought, _why does he have the ability to do this to me_?  She tore her eyes away from him and dropped a heavy suitcase onto the conference table.  Curiously, all but Donovan and Jackson crowded around her to see what goodies she had brought them.  Surveillance equipment.  Boring.  They immediately stepped back.  She wondered what they were expecting?  Uzis?  M-16s?  

"Jackson and I will use the earpieces, but I'm afraid they won't do for the rest of you tonight," Loralei said as she held up one of the minute recording devices.  

They looked like decorative pins, and were the old standbys when earpieces weren't feasible.  Ironically enough, Loralei was a quick start when it came to these gadgets.  She gave one to each agent and stopped in front of Donovan.  His lip was no longer swollen, but she could still see the red mark where her teeth had cut him.  She wondered how he intended to explain that, but she didn't dare voice it.

"Your wire, Agent Donovan," she said as she held it out.

His gaze was just as intense as hers, even more so.  This was no game, and after this assignment, he would definitely have to take some serious time off, but he found that he wanted to torture her [just in a 'good' way].  He held out his arms as if he were about to embrace someone.  "You're the bug expert, do me."  

Donovan was clearly challenging her.  Did he think she wouldn't do it?  If so, he had another 'think' coming.  She refused to let him shake her.  Curiously, the rest of the agents watched the exchange with growing interest.  The team knew Donovan was a bit on the cold side, but they hadn't seen the smart-ass bastard side of him.  Lately, it was the only side he showed.  

Gazing at him with steely eyes, Loralei approached him and removed his tuxedo jacket.  Slowly, she began to unbutton his shirt.  The closeness of him, his warm skin, and the scent of his cologne were utterly intoxicating.  She was shaking all the way down to her toes, and she hoped he couldn't detect it.  There was an undershirt beneath the starched tuxedo shirt, and she was almost disappointed to see it.  His flesh, the flesh she had nibbled, bitten, and kissed was hidden from her sight.  His breath came in slow, but heavy.  He couldn't believe the rush of excitement that ran through him just by the simple touch of her hands.  He didn't make one move to assist her.  She reached around him and unclipped the satin cummerbund, tucking it under her arm.  Not taking her eyes off his once, she clipped the recorder part of the wire to his slacks, and activated it.  She replaced the cummerbund and deftly buttoned up the shirt over the wire.  She hooked the microphone onto the perfect white shirt and stood back to admire her work.

"Would you like another swollen lip," she asked low enough for only Donovan to hear.

"Maybe later," he spat.

Loralei had rented a limousine to take them to the banquet hall at the ritzy _La Vérité Cachée_ hotel.  She nervously played with her earpiece and had each person test his or her equipment a dozen times or more.  She felt edgy and paranoid.  She wished that she had never gotten the UC team involved at all.  During the ride, Donovan watched Loralei closely.  He was worried about her, worried about her edginess.  As he had thought before, her behavior wasn't a good thing if she intended to make it out of a serious situation alive.

They arrived at the hotel a mere thirty minutes later.  When it was down to just Loralei and Donovan in the limo, he grabbed her arm before she could get out.  She looked back at him impatiently.

"_What_," she spat, indignant.

He didn't release her.  "Agent to agent, Loralei, you need to calm down and breathe.  If we see any action tonight, which I doubt, you're going to end up shot or dead.  I don't want to see you zipped up in a body bag.  Do you understand?"

"Stop telling me how to do my job," she said through clenched teeth.

He sighed, but maintained his grip.  "I'm trying to keep you alive, Agent Kadin.  All bullshit aside, I'm worried.  I don't think you're up to this, not after what has happened in the last few weeks."

She had had enough.  She jerked her arm out of his grasp.  "Thank you for your advice, but I think I can manage."

Loralei exited the limousine and Donovan quickly put on his mask.  He followed Loralei's lead and allowed his 'aide' to walk in front of him.  He was amazed to see that there were members of the press present.  Amazing.  Donovan blocked it out as best as he could and simply followed Loralei inside.  He didn't notice that he was being watched.

*  *  *

She watched as the baron strolled regally into the hotel behind a woman wearing an earpiece.  He was obviously a very important man, and her heart began to pound.  She couldn't believe that she had found two victims in the same city.  She usually waited until one man died before going after another, but she couldn't resist, not this time.  Her current victim was simply a thrill kill.  This one would make her even richer.  She stared at the handsome baron and found something vaguely familiar about him and the woman.  She couldn't quite put her finger on it.  It didn't matter.  She hadn't seen everyone in the baron's party, and it was good that she didn't.  Her current victim was already inside, undercover and oblivious.

No one, including the FBI agents who had been tracking her for months, would recognize her now.  Just as Loralei suspected, she had chopped several inches off her hair, dyed it, and had her crooked tooth repaired.  

*  *  *

Loralei eyed the crowd, but couldn't make out any single feature of anyone.  The only person whose presence she was aware of was Donovan's.  He mingled easily and played his role to the hilt.  Every now and then, she would mumble into the earpiece to Monica and Cody waiting outside.  They had given her the 'all clear' about nine hundred times.  Her hunch had been wrong.  BHK hadn't shown up.  She would only allow the façade to go on so long, and then she would get Donovan and his team out.  Of course, every other woman at the party had zoned in on Donovan as if he were the honey to their bees.  She was attacked by insane and unexplainable jealousy each time another woman touched him.  He played the consummate and gracious host, seemingly enjoying the attention, which angered Loralei to no end.  However, he would have given up all his fake millions for just one simple taste of Loralei's lips.

At one point in the evening, the 'baron' had to stand behind a podium and give a speech.  Loralei stood near the podium and continually scanned the crowd.  As Donovan began to recite the speech she had written for him, her eyes went up to him.  She watched as this handsome juvenile fucker spoke eloquently and with passion.  He could easily charm the panties off the most prudish virgin.  She longed to get back on his good side, to lay with him in bed, without even making love.  She needed to divert her attention elsewhere, but she couldn't.

*  *  *

She watched as several women crowded around the baron.  If she didn't make her move soon, he would simply disappear, and she'd lose her chance.  Something stopped her.  She caught a glimpse of a very familiar looking man.  She had yet to see him dressed so elegantly, but she didn't have any trouble recognizing him.  _Jake_.  Zara Damon, last known as Samantha Crump-Clawson, stood and stared at her victim in disbelief.  What was he doing here?  She took another long look at the baron, and then she smiled.  Oh, how they thought they knew everything, when they knew very little.  The party was a set up, a sting.  The 'baron' was the man in the restaurant the night she and Jake had gone for food.  The 'aide' had been the woman with him.  She had to make a swift exit before Jake saw her.  He would die for certain now; it was just a matter of planning the right time and method.

*  *  *

Two hours later, Loralei was upset and frustrated.  How much of the agency's money had she spent to set up such an elaborately useless sting operation?  How many more times would she fuck up?  BHK had not made an appearance, nor had _any_ woman _remotely_ close to her profile.  She glanced over at Donovan.  She could see that he was tired.  He had chatted up several women, and sat with another right at that exact moment.  She glanced over at Jackson who stood with Jake.  

"It's your call, Kadin," Jackson's voice said over the receiver stuck up against her ear.

She sighed.  "Let's move out.  The donations are secured, and our girl is a no show.  I think I can effectively say that my ass will be chewed severely by dawn."  She approached Donovan and took hold of his arm, forcing him to his feet.  She stared down sweetly at the pissed off woman.  "If you'll excuse us," she said with a contrite smile, "the baron and I need to discuss his schedule."

"What is it," he asked once they were out of earshot.

"We're done, Frank.  What's wrong?  Upset that I interrupted you before you could make a date with her?"

The green had come back, and he found that thought darkly delicious.  "Jealousy looks good on you," he said without the hint of a smile.

"Jealous?  You wish," she spat.  "We're _working_, not setting you up with your next lover."

Donovan exhaled an exasperated breath.  He was tempted to grab her and kiss her again.  Instead of acting on that impulse, he decided to play the asshole again.  "I suppose your plan wasn't exactly fool proof?"

She shook her head.  "You can't let it go, can you?"  Both had forgotten they were wired for sound.  "Smug.  Know it all.  Vicious.  Cruel."  She gazed up at him and planted her hands on her hips.  "Have I forgotten anything?"  Without a word, she charged off into the crowd.  "Move it, goddamn you," she yelled back at Donovan.    

No one said much on the way back.  Loralei ignored Donovan's smug gaze.  She wanted to kill him [but in a good way].  None of them minced words or said goodbye.  Loralei grabbed hold of her suitcase and she and Jackson walked silently to the car.  She tossed the case into the backseat and slammed the door.  Jackson wanted to talk to her, but she would not engage in conversation while pissed to the extreme.

"_Loralei_!"

She turned toward Donovan as he approached at full trot.  He had taken off the tux and donned blue jeans again.  "What now, Frank?"

Jackson rolled his eyes dramatically.  He had no desire to listen in on another lovers' spat.  "I'm going to the hotel, Kadin.  Maybe Agent Donovan will give you a ride back in the morning," he said.

"No," she said, "wait.  I have nothing more to say to him."

Donovan glanced at Jackson.  "Go."  Then to Loralei:  "We must talk."

"Jesus," she sighed.  "Okay.  Get out of here, Bart."

He didn't hesitate.  Donovan tried to take Loralei's arm, but she wouldn't let him touch her.  He sighed heavily and allowed her to walk ahead of him.  She tried to steer her way toward the building, but he grabbed her arm and pulled her back.

"What are you doing," she demanded.

"We tried this your way," he said, "and it failed.  I'm not criticizing you or your plan.  We'll now do this _my_ way."

"_Your_ way?  I think that after tonight, your services are no longer required or desired."  She once again jerked her arm free from his grasp and began to walk away.  "Later, Frank, I need to grab a cab." 

For three minutes or more, he stood and watched her.  Rooted to his spot, he had no idea what broke his resolve.  Right at that moment, he didn't care.  He ran up to her, grabbed her arm again, and spun her around to face him.

"For Christ's sake, Frank, let me go."

He shook his head.  "No, Loralei.  There is more I have to say to you."  He felt some of the tension slipping away.  He softened his grip just a bit.  "I'm sorry, _truly_ sorry.  This is not some juvenile spoiled titty baby thing.  This isn't a _man_ thing."

"Fine," she whispered.  "Apology accepted."  She broke free of his grasp for the umpteenth time.  "I have to go."

She turned away again.  Before she got totally out of earshot, he said, "I saw you watching me."

Loralei stopped.  She turned to face him for the umpteenth time.  At first, she thought he was playing another game.  However, the tone of his voice and the stance of his body told her otherwise.  "I was doing my job," she said sedately as she slowly walked toward him.

He nodded.  "Of course."

"Frank?  What do you want from me?  What can I do?  I'm tired of the animosity, the idiotic head games, and the bickering.  I can't stand it anymore.  What do you want?  Tell me, and I'll bend over backwards to give it to you."

Donovan pursed his lips thoughtfully for a moment.  "I can't stop thinking about you, about the last time I kissed you, the last time I made love to you.  I've done everything I could to push you out of my heart.  Nothing worked, not even trying to hate you.  You're still there, still with me, and I can't stop wanting you, _needing_ you."  He remained rooted to his spot.  She stood staring at him in stunned disbelief.  "I've been everything to you that you have accused, and it was done to cast you out of my life.  I don't want that.  Do you know what I want?  Do you know what I _really_ want?  I want to kiss you, and then I want to make love to you."

How many seconds did it take?  How long was it before she was in his arms?  Could anything like that be measured?  She didn't know the answers to any of those questions.  Despite his wounded lip and equally battered male pride, he took her easily and willingly into his embrace.  His lips captured hers gently, but with intense passion.  When his tongue entered her mouth, seemingly making love to it, she pressed her body against his, as if she were trying to become a part of him.

Loralei had begun to lose her sense of balance, space, and time.  At one moment, she was kissing the breath out of Donovan.  At the next one, she was crossing the threshold between the outside hallway and living room of his apartment.  She didn't remember walking anywhere, didn't remember his suggestion that they go to his place.  Had either of them spoken at all?  _How is this possible_, she wondered as they managed to make it to the bedroom.  They seemed to be working as one entity.  It was weird, scary, but oh so thrilling.  At another moment, they were stripped down and on the bed.  Oh, how she begged him to come inside her.  She didn't have the patience to wait.  Neither did he.  At the completion of the act, at the moment of tremendous release, she began to cry.  She felt like a total, blubbering idiot.  She held onto him for dear life as his full, warm, wonderful lips drank in her tears.  He whispered softly to her, declaring he would never let her go again. 


	10. Pillow Talk & Double Dates

PILLOW TALK & DOUBLE DATES

Donovan was sleeping.  Loralei snuggled up closely against his back.  She inhaled the scent of him before allowing her lips to travel lightly across his shoulder and down his spine.  He didn't move one muscle; he continued to breath deeply and to dream.  He came awake slowly, loving the feel of her lips on his skin.  It hadn't been that long since he last made love to her, but it felt like decades upon decades.  Before he discovered the truth, she had scratched him at the surface, slightly digging in.  But now, she was completely inside him, dug in so deeply, that it would be next to impossible to get her out.  He didn't want that, not now, or ever again.

She drew away from him and sat up with her back facing him.  He turned to his side and reached out to her.  He ran his fingers along the slope of her back and immediately felt gooseflesh forming where he'd touched.  "Please tell me you're not leaving."

Loralei turned her head and looked back at him.  Smiling a little, she shook her head.  "Where would I go, Agent Donovan?  I don't have a _place_.  Remember?"

He leaned toward her, and a moment later, she felt his warm breath on her skin.  Another moment later, he began to place gentle kisses along her shoulder.  "I missed you," he whispered against her flesh.

She sighed and closed her eyes.  "Me too," she said.  

Donovan opened his mouth to utter three words that he hadn't spoken aloud in a long time.  After a moment, he snapped his mouth closed.  He was hesitant.  How would she react?  How well would she take it?  He shoved the thought aside.  It was too soon.  Instead, he said, "I don't want you to go."

Loralei moved and slid back into bed.  She looked up at his handsome face.  "I'm not going anywhere, Frank."  

He leaned over her and kissed her softly.  "I meant what I said, Loralei," he whispered against her lips.  He leaned up a bit and smoothed her silky hair out of her face.  "I don't intend to let you go again.  I want to know _everything_ you held back from me.  Payback begins tonight, and once you totally open your heart to me, the debt you owe will be paid."

"Do you want my vital stats," she asked with a teasing smile.

He didn't smile or laugh or breathe.  He nodded.  "For starters."  

She sighed.  "Goddamn, you're not human.  You don't even breathe."

"You're stalling, Loralei.  Start talking."

She sighed again.  "Okay.  I'm an auburn haired single gal who will be thirty on her next birthday, which is in five months.  Start shopping now.  I was an awkward high school geek obsessed with crime shows on TV.  I thought the life of an FBI agent would be exciting and dangerous.  I went to college and studied criminal justice.  I loved it so much, I went straight for my masters.  After that, I drifted from job to job until the FBI came to speak at my school.  It was my dream, and I immediately went after it.  I went to the academy about a year and a half ago.  I was mainly a techo geek who was sent out to bust up Internet child porn rings.  I worked at that until I thought I'd go mad.  Eventually, I hooked up with my mentor, Bart Jackson, and he recommended me for field duty.  And here I am."

"That's your job, Loralei.  It's not who you are.  Tell me who you are.  Tell me about your family, your pets, where you really live.  Tell me that."

She was stunned to hear his request.  Ironically enough, what he wanted to hear from her was what he had told her in the weeks they had dated.  She had seen a side of him he had never shown to his colleagues.  She had learned about his love of cooking, the nickname his mother gave him when he was a child ['Fookie.'  _And if you ever tell anyone that, I'll have to take you out_, he had said.  She wasn't sure if he was joking or not], the way his school friends had teased him about his ears, the fact he had been dumped on prom night, that he had cried for three days when his beloved pet dog died, and hundreds of other little things.  Not once had she bothered sharing the same with him.  She hadn't wanted to become intimate like that; she had wanted to remain aloof, and to avoid falling for him at all costs.

"Who I am, Frank," she said after a long pause, "is one scared bitch.  I don't open up to just anyone, because when I do, I get hurt."  She sighed.  "But I trust you, I know you'll never hurt me.  So here goes.  I'm an only child; spoiled rotten, of course.  My parents live in southern Missouri and we're a farm family.  I have a nice one-bedroom apartment across town.  You should come see it sometime.  I'm not much of a housekeeper, though."

He finally smiled at her.  "It's a start.  Did you have any embarrassing nicknames as a child," he asked teasingly with a lifted eyebrow.

"No, I didn't…_Fookie_," she said.

"You know, I'm going to have to kill you now…but in a good way."

He kissed her deeply, and ended up making love to her.  Donovan had never felt so settled, so happy.  He didn't allow his three-word sentence to enter his mind the rest of the night.  There was plenty of time for him to tell her how he felt.

*  *  *

Jake was confused.  He still hadn't heard from Zara.  When he got home after the most expensive sting operation in FBI history, there were no messages awaiting him.  It wasn't like her not to call.  _What the hell am I thinking_?  Days ago, he had been bitching about the fact that she wouldn't leave him alone.  Right now, he was angry because she had done exactly what he wanted.  Of course, he supposed he was angry because _she_ had given _him_ the cold shoulder, and not the other way around.  _What the fuck_?

A knock on the door drew his attention away from his confusion.  Without thinking, he went to the door and opened it.  His visitor was Zara.  The last time he saw her, he had been intent on breaking off their relationship.  She was suffocating him, getting too close too soon.  However, the instant he his laid eyes on her, thoughts of dumping her swiftly began to leave him.  Had she possessed him _that_ completely?  

"Where have you been," he demanded almost jealously.  

"I'm sorry, Jake," she said meekly.  "I had an unexpected death in the family, and I had to go.  I didn't have time to tell you."  She entered his apartment and threw her arms around his neck.  "I missed you so."

He found himself responding to her touch, to her body.  "So did I," he admitted.  He meant it; he actually meant it.  Within moments, they were in bed making mad, mad love.

After, Jake fell into a peaceful, satisfied sleep.  Zara was wide-awake.  She slipped out of his embrace.  The party had shaken her, upset her.  The authorities were on to her now, they knew about her.  She wasn't thoroughly oblivious, of course.  She had read the papers about the 'mysterious' deaths of several well-known millionaires, and had even heard through a contact that a couple of her husbands were exhumed.  Yet, she hadn't wanted to believe she had slipped up.  She had no idea where they were from, if they were police officers or FBI agents.  Slowly, carefully, she slid out of bed.  She glanced back at Jake.  He hadn't moved one inch.  She crept over to his discarded jeans and jacket.

She meticulously went through the pockets of his jeans and found nothing more than dryer lint.  Frustrated, she tossed the garment aside and eyed his jacket.  She reached over and took the soft leather jacket into her hands.  It had two deep pockets; the first yielded the object she was looking for.  It was a shield of some sort, but not the usual kind of shield.  It resembled a FBI badge, but it was a little different.  She had once thought he might have been FBI, but he wasn't.  The silvery badge was inscribed with a peculiar abbreviation:  'SA.'  Below the badge was his photo identification card.  She smiled a little.  _Specialized, huh_, she thought.  There were three of them:  Jake, the fake baron, and the woman.  She had never preyed on women before; they offered her nothing.  Yet, three was better than one any day.  She'd take them all out.  She had learned how to shoot, and it wouldn't be difficult.  

*  *  *

Donovan looked up as Loralei and Jackson entered the conference room.  Instead of Donovan fixing his typical harsh glare on Loralei, his eyes had softened, and they followed her about the room.  They had parted earlier this morning so that Loralei could go back to the hotel to change before meeting everyone for yet another strategy meeting.  Both wanted to keep their wits about them so they could work, but it wasn't easy.  He watched as she walked past him to get a cup of coffee.

He couldn't sit back any longer.  He approached her casually and set about getting coffee for himself.  "Have you heard from Director Casey?"

The closeness of his body sent small shivers down her spine.  She was typically cold natured, but right at that moment, she felt a bit hot.  "Yes.  He is not happy.  He basically told me I was pretty stupid, and I had to agree.  Nobody was satisfied about last night."

He sipped his coffee thoughtfully.  "I was satisfied after last night, after this morning, and in the shower before you left," he said with a smirk.

"You can't do this to me, Agent Donovan," she whispered.

"No," he said, "not right now, but later I can and will."  Without a word, he walked away and sat down.

Loralei set the coffee aside.  She turned toward the conference table and fixed her eyes on Donovan's face.  "Do you have any ice?"  

Donovan hid a smile behind his hand.  "I don't think so," he said.

For an hour or more, the agents sat and discussed what course of action they needed to take.  The party had obviously flopped.  They had few options left outside stalking every bar in the metro area.  It was time to set up the decoys, and Donovan and Jake were once again to be the targets.  There would be no more horrid scripts, no fake identities.  They would walk in as themselves and hopefully walk out with a killer.

*  *  *

Later, Loralei unlocked the door to Donovan's apartment.  They had agreed to meet for a couple of hours before the bar hopping began.  "Frank," she called.  "Are you here?"  When he didn't respond, she went into the kitchen.  She didn't find him in there, either.  She turned to make her way toward the bedroom, but Donovan's body blocked her way.  She yelped out in surprise.  "God, Frank, I wish you wouldn't _do_ that," she cried out.

He said nothing.  Instead, he drew her against him and kissed her hungrily.  She moaned a little and wrapped her arms around him.  It had been all of six hours since he last kissed her, but it felt like centuries.  He couldn't get enough.  They hastily discarded just enough clothing to suit their fevered need.  He backed her against the kitchen wall as her arms and legs enveloped him.  Within seconds, he was inside her, his soul touching hers, their hearts beating as one.

*  *  *

"Isn't that the couple we saw before," Zara asked as she eyed the man and woman seated five or six tables away.

Jake looked up.  "Yes."  He smiled a little as he watched his big bad boss acting like a schoolboy with his first serious girlfriend.  They appeared to be unable to see anything around them.  "That's them."

"Do you know them well?"

He shrugged.  "Yeah, pretty well.  Why are you so interested all of a sudden?"

She turned and looked at Jake.  Smiling, she said, "If they're friends of yours, I'd like to meet them.  They're at a table for four.  Why don't we join them?"

Her sudden interest in Donovan and Loralei confused him.  Normally, Zara didn't give one ripe fuck about anyone other than him and herself.  "I don't think they're itching for company, baby.  They probably would prefer to be left alone."

"Oh, come on, Jake," she whined.  "Let's go over for a minute.  If they get sick of us, we'll leave.  Okay?"

_He will kill me for this, I'm sure_, he thought.  "Okay."

Donovan and Loralei looked up curiously as Jake and his bottle job girlfriend approached their table.  "I insisted on him bringing me over here," Zara said.  "I wanted to meet Jake's friends.  Do you mind if we join you?"

They exchanged a look between them that clearly said, 'yes we mind.'  However, Loralei shrugged.  "Sure.  Sit down."  Donovan smiled a little at Loralei.  She knew the smile.  He would make her pay for this.

Zara took the chair beside Donovan and Jake sat next to Loralei.  Donovan felt a tad uncomfortable sitting near the woman.  It was a feeling he couldn't exactly explain.  Her perfume was cloying.  It seemed as if she had mixed two fragrances together.  His sinuses had already begun to ache.  After a moment, Loralei introduced herself and Donovan to Zara.  

For a long time, Loralei stared at Zara.  At first, she thought it was the bad dye job that had gotten her attention, but after awhile, she wasn't sure.  She felt the same uncomfortable feeling that Donovan had experienced.  It was bizarre.  She seemed a little too friendly and immediately began digging into their personal histories.  Paranoid, Loralei began to wonder if she were sitting with BHK.  She purposely said something stupid so that Zara would laugh.  There was no crooked front tooth.

Loralei glanced at Jake beside her.  It wasn't hard to see that he was exhausted.  She began to think about what she had read in the BHK file.  Samantha Crump-Clawson had been hypersexual, as was Brianna Boggs-Thornton, Sheila Jackson-Simington, and Rebecca Howard-Ferrano.  Her heart began to pound sickly in her chest.  _No, it can't be.  I'm paranoid.  Why wouldn't anyone else know before me?  Why not Jake?  Why not Frank?  _She pushed the thought out of her mind.

Zara watched Loralei carefully.  Women sensed it before men.  Women were intuitive to the point of knowing the exact moment when they had conceived a child where men wouldn't know until the rabbit died.  She knew.  She would have to die before she could blab to Jake.  She couldn't have her cover blown by the smarmy lover of the fraud baron.

Donovan and Loralei left the restaurant before Jake and Zara.  She had grown quiet and withdrawn.  He lifted her hand and pressed it briefly to his lips.  "Is something wrong?"

She glanced up at him.  "I'm okay, Frank.  Jake's girlfriend is…bizarre.  I think we need to check her out."

Concerned, he stopped walking and pulled Loralei back to face him.  "She fits the profile," he said, "but so do you."

She nodded.  "I know, Frank, but my gut is telling me that something isn't right about her."

"I had bad vibes as well, but I think we might have just gotten a bad impression of her.  Why would she go after Jake?  _He_ doesn't fit the victim profile at all."

She sighed.  "You have a point, Frank.  But I want to run her name anyway."

He nodded.  "It's always best to follow your gut instinct."

"I'm probably wrong."  _I hope I'm wrong_.

The two of them began walking back toward Donovan's apartment building.  They were set to meet in less than an hour.  Loralei was worried and upset.  She was certain she had just allowed the Black Heart Killer to slip right past her.  


	11. The Killer Instinct

THE KILLER INSTINCT

Loralei stared impatiently over Cody's shoulder as he searched high and low for information on Zara Damon.  Normally, only Donovan stood breathing down his neck, but tonight, he had Donovan's counter part joining in on the fun.  He checked everything, and checked it twice.

Exasperated, Cody said, "There's nothing."

She glanced at Donovan before settling her eyes on the computer screen.  "That's good…isn't it?"

He turned toward them.  "Well, it depends on what you define as good.  When I said there's nothing, I really mean _nothing_.  No record of a woman named Zara Damon exists.  You would think there would be dental or medical records, or a parking ticket.  There's nothing."

She closed her eyes and sighed deeply.  She had let the fucking killer slide right past her.  _Stupid, stupid_, she thought.  She looked up at Donovan.  "We have to get to Jake."

Both had turned on their heels to set the wheels in motion, but something stopped them:  Jake.  He gave Donovan and Loralei a bewildered look.  "What's going on?"

"Jake, where's your girlfriend," Donovan asked carefully.

"Zara?  I left her at my place.  Why?"

Loralei didn't wait for anyone.  She ran for the door.  Donovan called out her name and chased after her.  When he didn't catch her in time, he made his way back.  "Get your gear ready.  We have to move _now_."

Jake still didn't understand.  "Move?  What are you talking about?  Would someone tell me what the hell is going on?"

"No time," Donovan said.  "You have three minutes.  Loralei can't do this alone.  Cody, call Jackson, Alex, and Monica, find out what's taking them so fucking long to get here.  _Move, Jake, now_."

Donovan caught Loralei as she slid behind the wheel of the rented Jag.  She was intent on speeding away and leaving him behind.  Her failure to react earlier solely rested on her shoulders, and she wanted to take the killer out on her own.  She had tried to lock the car door, but his reflexes were quicker.  He opened the door and slid easily into the car.

"What do you think you're doing," he demanded.

"This is my fuck up, Frank, it's up to me to fix it."

"Are you insane, Loralei?  Never go into a situation without backup.  What did I tell you before?  I don't want to see you in a body bag."

She gunned the engine to life.  "We have no time to argue, Frank."

*  *  *

Donovan and Loralei approached Jake's front door with weapons in hand.  "Zara," Loralei called out, "we need to talk to you."  There was nothing.  No movement.  No sound.  "Zara, this is your last warning."  Nothing.

He glanced over at her.  "Politeness gets you nothing in this world.  Do you mind?"  He nodded toward the door.  

Understanding what he wanted to do, she fixed an exasperated gaze on his face.  With a sigh, she stepped aside, muttering something about sexism and big balls.  She watched as Donovan administered several swift kicks to the door.  When it finally gave, she dove inside, with him on her heels.

Jake and Alex arrived not long after Donovan broke into his apartment.  Incredulously, he gazed at what remained of the door.  He didn't understand, and was sure he really didn't want to.  He stepped inside the living room and saw Loralei wondering around with her hand on the back of her neck.  She appeared more agitated than upset.  Donovan canvassed the small area, searching for any clues that Zara might have left behind.

"Would someone tell me what the fuck is going on," Jake demanded.  

Loralei exchanged another look with Donovan.  How did one go about breaking another's heart?  It wouldn't be a simple feat.  However, there was still little time to explain this complicated mess.  Zara was on the run now, and if they didn't act soon, she would simply disappear again.  "Go on," she told Donovan and Alex.  "I need to tell him.  You have to find her.  Call me, and we'll catch up."

Without a sound, Donovan nodded and took Alex by the arm and led her through the shattered door.

Once they were out of earshot, he fixed his confused eyes on her face.  "Zara," he spat, finally understanding and feeling like a fool.

She didn't say anything at first.  _You're such a coward_.  "I think so, Jake.  I'm sorry.  I wish I had known sooner to spare you some pain.  After we met with you and she, I asked Cody to do some digging, and Zara Damon doesn't exist.  There's no record of her anywhere.  She changed her appearance and fixed her teeth, as I suspected, and she went after you."

He impatiently ran his hand through his thick dark brown hair.  "It makes no sense, Loralei.  I thought you said this killer only went after rich guys."  He swept his arm in a wide arc.  "Does this look like the home of a millionaire?"

She swallowed a huge lump that had formed in her throat.  Her first 'big' case had blown up right in her face, and she had done nothing to prevent it.  "I suppose I was wrong about her, about a lot of things.  I don't know why she went after you, unless she somehow found out what you do."

He couldn't deal with the betrayal, the hurt, or the lies.  He waved it off.  "We need to help Donovan and Alex."

Donovan's phone rang.  Irritated, he snapped it open.  "Where are you," he asked Loralei as soon as he recognized the number.

"On the freeway breaking every speeding law known to man.  Give me an update," she said.

He sighed heavily.  "I have Cody checking out every airport, train and bus station within two hundred miles.  No one fitting her description has shown up yet.  She's still in the city, but I'm not sure where."

Frustrated, she cried out, nearly bursting Donovan's eardrum.  "_Goddamn_," she swore.  "Regroup in thirty minutes.  Get Jackson's ass on the phone.  No one sleeps tonight."

"Loralei?  How's Jake?"

She took her eyes off the road long enough to glance at his profile.  His face was blank, but his lips were pressed tightly together.  "Not good."

*  *  *

While Cody and Monica stayed behind to monitor mass transit, the rest of the crew began to canvass the area, spreading out to check every bar from one end of the city to the other.  There were several women they mistakenly thought were Zara, but she hadn't turned up.  How could one woman hide so well?  Toward dawn, the bars began to close down, and they were running out of options.  Cody updated Donovan every half hour, but Zara had simply disappeared.  Loralei returned to the office and immediately relieved both Cody and Monica.  Both of them were literally falling asleep in their coffee.  They hesitated at first, but she told them she would handle Donovan, and make sure he didn't yell at them for leaving sentry duty.  Besides, it was her mess, and she was determined to clean it up.

Loralei was the techno geek, and she learned Cody's setup fairly quickly.  Her eyes burned into the computer monitors, as if she were willing Zara to show up somewhere.  Why didn't she jump on her while she had the chance?  Why was she so dense?  If Zara killed tonight, it would be on _her _head.  She was also worried about Jake.  He was so angry and betrayed.  It made her think of Donovan and how she had hurt him.  She wondered if Donovan and Jake realized how alike they were.  

"Where are you, you bitch," she whispered as she tapped the keyboard.

Donovan came into the room.  He had sent Alex and Jake on.  Both of them, especially Jake, needed a break.  Jackson had passed out in the car on the way back, and Donovan had left him there.  He fixed his eyes on Loralei sitting before Cody's expansive console.  Her head was in her hands and she was grumbling under her breath.  He couldn't make out any of her words, but he was certain she was brow beating her ego, blaming herself for what had happened.  He wasn't sure any words he said would comfort her, and equally unsure if she wanted to be comforted at all.  It was obvious she was exhausted, but she wouldn't quit.  Slowly, he approached her and placed his hands on her shoulders.  She had sensed his presence, of course, but she didn't speak.  She had failed him, failed them _all_.  How in the hell could she redeem herself now?

His hands began to knead her tensed up shoulders.  Her muscles were tight and knotted.  "Take a break, Loralei.  I can do this.  You're exhausted."

She uncovered her face for a moment.  "I can't," she whispered.  "I have to do this.  I should have known, Frank, I should have reacted when I saw her, but I didn't.  For Christ's sake, I've been _obsessed_ with this case for months, and she was sitting right in front of me, right in front of my fucking face.  This is my battle, and I'm going to bring her down if it's the last thing I do."

"Loralei," he said, "you can't do this yourself.  If you don't stop, you'll drive yourself mad."

"It's too late for that, Frank."  She sighed heavily and buried her face in her hands again.  "Jake could have died tonight, and I would have been responsible for that.  His face would have gone up in the victim portfolio, and I would have had to look at it every day knowing that I failed."  She didn't want to cry, didn't want to act like a girl, but she couldn't help it.  Her tears overtook her, controlling her.  She was so exhausted, but she wouldn't rest, not until she had squashed the life out of the vicious black widow.

Donovan turned the chair around so that she was facing him.  He kneeled before her and took hold of her wrists.  At first, she struggled against him.  She didn't want to look at him, didn't want him to see her shame and self-loathing.  Before long, his persistence paid off.  He held her hands in his as she continued to shed her silent tears.  She hadn't yet looked at him.

"Listen to me, Loralei," he commanded.  "Look at me."  She did so grudgingly.  "What you're forgetting is that Jake isn't dead.  His heart is hurt, but he'll heal.  You're speaking of events that 'could have been.'  You can't look at it that way.  If you want to make it in this field, you're going to have to back off and share the responsibility.  You can't do everything.  Do you understand?  I've tried it your way, and I fell on my ass more times than I care to admit.  You're following the same path; I can see it all over you.  It has to stop."

She shook her head.  "Suddenly, breaking apart porno rings seems very normal right now."

He smoothed her hair away from her face.  "Get some rest, Loralei."

"I can't," she said as she drew away from him.  She stood and went straight for the coffee.  She wasn't sure how long it had sat there, but she didn't care.  She poured herself a steaming mug and took a sip of it.  She grimaced.  It was strong and bitter.  She could feel Donovan's eyes boring into her.

"Very well," he said gently.  Without hesitation, he approached the coffee maker and poured a cup for himself.  "I can't, either."

"Why are you so damn stubborn," she asked, slightly irritated.

He drank deeply from the cup and stifled his own grimace.  "Why are you?"

"Answer a question with a question.  I'll be fine here for a while, Frank.  I think _you_ should get some sleep."

He took another sip of the bitter coffee as he studied her curiously.  He wasn't born yesterday; he knew what she was planning.  Calmly, he set down the coffee mug before taking hold of her forearms.  Gazing down into her eyes, he said, "Loralei, I know what you're thinking.  Don't try it, don't do this alone.  You will die trying to redeem yourself."  It was on the tip of his tongue to utter the words he had held back from her.  He hesitated again.  How could he make her understand?  What would he have to do?  He couldn't imagine what he'd do if he lost her.  He didn't even want to think about it.  

She leaned up a little and placed a soft kiss on his lips.  "I have trouble asking for help, especially when I know I've screwed up, and I have."  He started to protest, but she kissed him again to cut off his words.  "No," she whispered against his lips.  "Don't argue with me.  You'll never win this battle.  I know what I've done, and nothing you say will help.  I like this sweet side of you, Frank, and I never understood why you don't share it outside our relationship."

He took her into his embrace and kissed her forehead.  "There you go.  You're evading the issue at hand and trying to distract me.  It's not working," he said gently.

"Help me with that," she whispered harshly.  "Help me, Frank.  I don't know what to do or where to go.  I don't know how I've gotten myself so mixed up."  She kissed him again, running her tongue along his lips.  "_Help me_."

*  *  *

Since Jake had ridden with Loralei, he didn't have a ride back to his apartment.  Alex felt so badly for him, that she didn't hesitate to volunteer to drive him back.  Of course, he was only going back to gather a few things and overnight it at a hotel.  Donovan had destroyed his front door, and it wouldn't be repaired until tomorrow morning.  She stood back and watched as he moved through his apartment as if he were a victim of some great disaster.  She supposed he was.

"Damn, I didn't know he could kick so hard," Alex said as she examined the door.  

She had meant for the comment to lighten the moment, but it didn't work.  Jake just shrugged his shoulders and continued to walk around in a daze.  He wanted to throttle Zara, and then himself for allowing her to get inside his mind so quickly.  He moved off into the bedroom and stared down at the bed.  How many times had they made love here?  Had she been planning his death the whole time?  Angered now, he was tempted to take out his gun and fill the bed with bullets.  It was stupid, of course, but his rationality had flown the coop hours ago.

Alex stepped up to the doorway of his bedroom.  She noticed that Jake had seated himself on the foot of the bed.  He was staring straight down at the floor.  "Are you all right," she asked.

He looked up and saw concern in her lovely, ice blue eyes.  "Yeah, I'm okay.  I just need a cure for stupidity.  Do you have it?"

She shook her head and slowly approached him.  She sat beside him and placed her hand on his shoulder.  "When men are in lust, they lose their minds.  It's perfectly natural."

He smiled a little.  She had the ability to make him laugh when he felt like tearing apart the room.  "I've never laid a violent hand on a woman, but if I saw her right now, I'm not sure I could hold it together."

"Bring her to me.  Monica and I will kick her ass for you."  


	12. Showdown

SHOWDOWN

Refreshed from his nap in the back of Donovan's car, Jackson entered the office and announced he wanted to relieve them.  Donovan refused, of course, but he insisted that Loralei go.  However, she refused to budge unless Donovan went with her.  The dark circles beneath his eyes were prominent, and if he didn't sleep soon, he would fall out.  The two of them went back to his apartment together.  Before passing totally out on his bed, he took her in his arms and held her close against him.  He then pulled back and kissed her.

"This isn't sleeping, Frank," she said against his lips.

He drew away momentarily and gazed down at her.  "We'll sleep, but not right now.  I need you, Loralei.  I've never needed anyone so much."

He swooped in for a long, passionate kiss, slipping his tongue between her waiting, eager lips.  At one point so exhausted that she thought she might die, Loralei was now energized and ready to hit it.  _I have found the cure for fatigue!  Make love to Frank Donovan, and it will cure what ails you_, she thought and then giggled.  He drew away from her for a moment and gazed at her curiously.

"What's so funny," he asked, bewildered.

"Nothing," she said as she began unbuttoning his shirt.  "I was thinking how tired I was until you kissed me."

"We need to make quick work of our clothes.  We have a long day ahead of us."

She leaned up and kissed him as she slid her hands inside his opened shirt.  "So many buttons, so little time."

*  *  *

Donovan slid out of bed a few hours later.  He was still bone tired, but the two-hour nap had helped a little.  He thought he could probably function for the rest of the day and into the night.  He was disappointed that he hadn't heard from anyone.  Zara had obviously not left town yet, and he didn't understand why.  She had to know they were onto her.  Yet, from experience, he knew that serial killers enjoyed toying with law enforcement.  For a moment, he glanced at Loralei, who was sleeping soundly.  She would face disciplinary action for what she had done, and he wasn't sure what would happen.  He hadn't thought much about what would become of their relationship once she was taken off the case.  He had to be honest with himself and admit that he didn't _want_ to think about it.  He simply didn't want her to leave.  Although he had fought hard against it, he had ended up falling in love with her anyway.  She had let him know she felt the same without speaking a word.  Yet, it bothered him that neither had voiced it to the other.

He turned toward her sleeping form and ran the back of his hand gently across her soft cheek.  "We're both so afraid," he whispered to her.  He turned away from her, got up, and made his way toward the bathroom.

After Donovan was fully dressed, he seemed to feel better, more awake.  Today would be a good day for Cody to make the coffee.  Everyone would need it.  He checked in on Loralei again, and she hadn't moved an inch.  Carefully, he crawled partially onto the bed and leaned over her.  He kissed her temple very gently, trying hard not to wake her.  She would probably chew him out once she realized that he had left without her.  With one final glance back at her, he crept out of the bedroom and made his way back to the office, back to the insanity of Zara Damon.

*  *  *

Zara stood outside the tall apartment building for what seemed like hours.  She had followed the two agents back, and they had been totally unaware of her presence the whole time.  They could see very little, just each other.  She needed to get inside the man's apartment.  What had she called him again?  Was it Frank?  Whoever he was, she knew she could pass for his girlfriend with ease.  If she could gain access to his apartment, she would take both of them out.  She had brought plenty of spare ammunition.  She had visions of making it appear as if they had had a lovers' spat and then shot each other.  It would work perfectly; her plans never failed.

*  *  *

Loralei stretched and yawned, keeping her eyes closed.  She turned her body toward where Donovan should still be laying, but her arm hit nothing more than a cold bed sheet.  She opened her eyes and rose up on one elbow.  "Frank?"  When she didn't receive an answer, she knew he had already gone.  He had gotten up and left her in bed.  _Damn him_, she thought.  She was annoyed, but couldn't be annoyed at the same time.  He cared enough to look out for her, but she wasn't an amateur [_even if I do act like one_].  She eyed the phone for a few minutes, and found she was tempted to call him up and give him a piece of her mind.  However, she would see him soon enough.  

Director Casey was going to pull her off the case.  She had made one too many mistakes, and the Bureau couldn't afford to risk the lives of its agents or spend more of the taxpayer's money on extravagant sting operations.  She also had to answer to an ethics charge.  She hadn't said anything to Donovan, but she had told her boss what she had done.  He had hit the roof, of course, and had demanded that she put in for a transfer out of his regional office.  Her choices were few.  She could either take the transfer or ask to be released from duty.  Each time she kissed Donovan, each time he made love to her, she felt as if it was the last time.  She couldn't tell him about the transfer, because she was torn in fifteen different directions at once.  She loved him, but couldn't dare speak the words.  Thoughts of seeing him today depressed her immensely.  Sooner or later, she would have to leave him.  

She shrugged away her confusion and slowly got out of bed.  She hadn't brought a change of clothes with her, and would be forced to wear the same outfit today.  Perhaps she might borrow something from Alex or Monica.  She went into the bathroom, keeping her mind occupied with mundane thoughts.  However, as she stepped beneath the hot spray of water, her mind drifted once again to Frank Donovan.  When Director Casey had presented her with his ultimatum, she had decided to quietly take the transfer and slip uneventfully out of Donovan's life forever.  She hadn't been comfortable with that decision, and had questioned her motives a dozen times.  Right now, at this very moment, her mind was solidly made up and couldn't be swayed.  When she saw Donovan today, she would tell him how she felt, and then she would stay if he wanted her.  After that, she would turn in her shield and service revolver, and tell Director Casey where he could stick them.    

*  *  *

"Still nothing," Donovan asked as he entered the room.  Everyone else had arrived a couple of hours ago.  They appeared as worn out as he felt.

Cody shook his head.  "Nope.  No sign of her anywhere.  Maybe she dyed her hair and slipped out that way.  She had to have done _something_ like that.  I don't see any other way she could have escaped."

"She hasn't left," Jake said suddenly.  He was sitting at the conference table with his head in his hands.  He had been fighting a massive headache since last night.  "Don't ask me how I know this, but I do.  She's waiting for something, waiting for someone, probably _me_.  She knows we're after her, but she doesn't know that _I_ know."

Either he was more tired than he thought or Jake had been taking lessons from Cody, but Donovan had difficulty comprehending his words.  After a moment, the fog lifted and he finally understood.  "She'll come back for you," he said.

Jake nodded.  "Yeah.  She's a hunter.  She won't give up on her game that easily; she won't lose.  I was thinking about this last night.  I don't fit the profile, I'm not a millionaire, but I am what she fears the most.  Do you get it?  She wasn't after me for money at all.  She targeted me just for shits and giggles."

"He's right," Monica said suddenly.  "She is into Jake for the thrill of it, and she's cracking up.  She may target every one of us.  She's at the point where most serial killers end up getting caught."

"Where is Agent Kadin," Jackson asked suddenly.  "She needs to be here for this."

Donovan glanced casually at Loralei's partner.  "When I left her, she was still asleep," he said nonchalantly.  Without another word, he went up to his office and grabbed the phone.  He dialed his number and listened to the burring rings.  _She might be in the shower_, he thought.  He hung up without leaving a message and made his way back downstairs.  "I'll brief Loralei after she arrives.  I think we need to send Jake to his apartment to wait for her.  How do you feel about that, Jake?"

Surprised, Jake fixed his eyes on Donovan's face.  _Since when do you ask how I **feel** about anything_?  Orders were barked and followed, no questions asked.  "I don't care which way we do this, I just want her caught and locked up.  I've been her target for over a month now, and I suppose twenty-four more hours won't hurt."     

*  *  *

Loralei rushed out of the bathroom when she heard the phone.  She had her hand on it when it stopped ringing.  She figured it was probably Donovan paging her to get her ass in.  She went back to the bathroom and hastily dried off.  She slipped into yesterday's clothes, irritated that she had nothing else.  The phone rang again, startling her.  She swiped it up on the third ring.

"Frank?"

"I thought that was what _I _was supposed to say."

She chuckled.  "You bastard," she said, not unkindly.  "You left me behind.  Any word on our girl?"

"I'm sorry about that, Loralei, but you needed to rest.  No word, but we have a new theory.  I don't want to go into it over the phone.  Paranoia can be a good thing.  I'll pick you up shortly and brief you then."

"Okay."  She hesitated for half a second as she struggled to spit out what she had on her mind.  "Frank?  When this is all over, hopefully by tonight, we need to talk."

Normally when he heard 'we need to talk,' it was never good.  Images of getting dumped immediately came to mind.  Yet, the sound of her voice held promise, and he knew what they would be discussing.  "Yes," he agreed, "we do."

She hung up without saying goodbye.  If she hadn't, she would have blurted out everything right then and there, but it wasn't the right time for it.  They had to find Zara Damon and put a stop to her homicidal binge.  As Donovan had thought before her, there was plenty of time for it.  They had their whole lives before them.

*  *  *

By the time the team arrived at Jake's apartment, his door had been replaced.  He had had to go the manager's office and get a key to the new lock to even let himself inside.  Donovan had ordered Alex and Jake to remain inside while the rest of them kept watch from outside.  They had no idea when or if Zara would show up, and were equally clueless as to how she intended to kill Jake.  Suddenly, Donovan thought of Loralei.  She was awaiting him.

"I'll check back with you later.  Loralei is expecting me," Donovan said before turning away to leave.

Alex grinned a little as she watched Donovan walk toward the door.  She glanced over at Jake.  He was smiling as well.  "Do you think he'll marry her," she asked.

He nodded and laughed a little.  "Probably.  That is, if they don't kill each other first."

*  *  *

Loralei paced about the apartment, impatiently awaiting Donovan's arrival.  She heard the key rattling in the door and she turned toward it with a smile.  Expecting her lover, she planted her hands onto her hips with every intention to bitch him out thoroughly for being late.  However, when the door came open, her jaw dropped in shocked surprise.  She stood face to face with the Black Heart Killer.  Acting on pure impulse, Loralei rushed the woman, flying toward her with her fingers hooked into claws, her face drawn into a vicious snarl.

*  *  *

Mid-morning traffic was heavy and hectic, and Donovan maneuvered through it, his irritation growing.  He snapped on the radio and tuned it to the police band.  Several agencies, including the police department, had been alerted.  Perhaps he would luck out and hear that Zara had been caught.  He listened to the dispatchers as he tried to keep his mind focused on traffic.  A sharp burst of static broke his concentration.  He hadn't even been aware he wasn't paying attention to the radio.  Years later, Donovan would think back and wonder why he had heard that particular call when he had blocked out all the rest. 

"Shots fired in the vicinity of 23rd and Main.  Any available units respond."

Donovan's heart stopped for a very brief moment.  His apartment building was in that area.  _Loralei…dear God no_.  Without thinking, he grabbed his cell phone and flipped it open.  "Zara didn't go after Jake, she went for Loralei.  Get to my apartment _now_," he barked into the phone before snapping it closed.  He felt his sanity slipping away.  Panic threatened to seize him and hold on.  He pressed his foot to the accelerator and weaved in and out of traffic like a man possessed.

By the time he arrived at his apartment building, it was swarming with police and medical personnel.  His heart began to pound in his chest as his level of anxiety began to spiral out of control.  His brain was telling his body to run, but it couldn't respond to the command.  A hint of red caught his eye, and he immediately looked up, expecting to see Loralei.  However, it wasn't Loralei.  It was Zara.  She caught sight of Donovan and began to run.  His heart was leading him to Loralei, but his brain was pushing him to pursue Zara.  Following his brain's commands, he drew his weapon, and gave chase.  Her long legs and lighter body had given her a nice lead.  However, Donovan's was stronger and in better shape.  He pressed onward and caught up soon enough.  With dawning horror, he realized that she had a gun.  His heart began to break as he thought of Loralei, but this bitch would not get away from him.

The sidewalk was alive with activity as dozens of people began to stop and stare.  When Zara ducked between two buildings, Donovan stopped just at the edge of the first building.  A dead-end alley separated them, and there was only one-way in and out.  She was trapped.  "_Get back_," he snarled at the bystanders.  At any moment, she could run out and begin shooting.  

Donovan was relieved when he saw several police officers catching up to him.  One of them knew him, and he didn't have to explain his presence or the gun clinched tightly in his hand.  They began moving the people out of the area.

Sweating now, he peeked around the corner.  This action alone was met with gunfire.  She had opened fire on him and the police.  The officers were ready to take her out.  "_No_," he spat.  "_Hold your fire_."  He ignored the sweat trickling down his face.  "Zara, you're trapped.  There's no way out."  

"Fuck you, _Baron Holden_," she cried sarcastically.

The anxiety and stress had settled firmly inside him.  He felt as if he were losing his mind.  He wanted to take her alive, for Loralei.  "There is no way out," he repeated.  "If you don't come out, I'm coming in, and I won't hesitate to do what I have to until you surrender.  If you come out, you'll live."

"You have _nothing_," she screamed.  "You _are_ nothing."  

Without warning, she ran out into the street again.  Donovan pounced.

*  *  *

Donovan wasted no time with Zara.  Once she was secured, he ran like he had never run before.  He didn't see anyone, including his team and Loralei's partner as they ran after him.  They had been inside already; he didn't need to see her.  Donovan saw nothing, no one.  He had a single-minded purpose, and he drove his body forward, pushing his way through.  The first thing he actually noticed was the blood.  There was so much blood.  Had he ever seen this much blood?  He was certain he had, but never had it come from the woman he loved.  In the middle of all the blood was Loralei.  Medical personnel surrounded her, but there was obviously very little they could do.  Every ounce of strength began to flow out of his body.  He felt arms and hands holding him back, and he fought against them.  The paramedics carefully lifted her body and placed her on a stretcher.  Five or six people were working on her at the same time.  Her face was covered with an oxygen mask, and he couldn't see her, couldn't determine if she was alive or dead.

He broke free of the hands holding him and he ran after the paramedics.  His entire soul aching now, he refused to leave her.  He went into the ambulance with her, despite the insistence of medical personnel that he stay behind.  The paramedics quickly discovered that this man was not rational, he couldn't be reasoned with at all.  Nothing shook him up, including threats of arrest.

Although it was difficult and a tight squeeze, Donovan kneeled between the gurney and the side of the ambulance.  He caressed her hair and felt the bitter sting of tears just behind his eyelids.  She was barely alive.  She focused her eyes on his handsome face.  

"Loralei," he said gently, "you must fight.  You can't do this, you can't let go."

Her hand came up slowly.  Any little movement immediately drained her strength, but she had to get the mask off her face, had to tell him.  As her blood streaked hand reached up for the mask, Donovan took hold of it and held it back.

"No, don't move.  Save your strength.  You mustn't…"

"_No_," she croaked out weakly behind the mask.  

Somehow, some way, she found the strength to pull her hand out of his.  She moved the mask away from her mouth.  Her breathing was labored and gurgling.

"Please Loralei," he begged urgently as his tears slid slowly out of his eyes.  "Don't."  Her hand came up and rested on his cheek.  He covered it with his own.  A little smile touched her lips, and he had no idea how she had managed to muster the strength.  "Stay with me, Loralei, I need you."

"It's okay," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.  "Come close, Frank, please.  Don't-don't…have…time."  He leaned down as close to her as he could while his hand continually caressed her hair.  "I love you," she whispered as tears filled her eyes.

Donovan forced a smile through his tears.  He placed a kiss on her sweaty brow.  "I love you, too."

A soft sigh escaped her as her body grew still.  He knew she was gone; he had seen more people die than he cared to remember.  He held onto her hand and laid his cheek against her forehead.  His tears fell steadily as he whispered 'I love you' over and over again.  He had waited too long, had falsely believed he had plenty of time to express his love for her.  Fate had played the cruelest trick of all. 


	13. It Ain't Over 'Til It's Over

IT AIN'T OVER 'TIL IT'S OVER

Frank Donovan was content to stay with Loralei, to die with her, to exchange his life for hers, but that wasn't to be.  After she took her last breath, cruel, hardened hands shoved him off her prone body.  He was quickly and forcefully shuttled to the front of the ambulance.  He wanted to fight them off, to stay with her.  It hadn't quite dawned on him that they were trying to save her life.  He couldn't comprehend the simplest of thoughts.  When his mind cleared a little, he backed off and let them to do their job.  However, he was fatalistic at this point.  He had been with her, had heard her last breath.  He would never be with her again, never express his love for her, the love he kept inside far too long.  Never.  What a horrid, hateful word.  His only consolation was the simple fact that the wicked bitch [whoever she was today] had been caught and secured.  If he saw her again, he would kill her, just as she had killed Loralei.

Very vaguely, very far far away in the back of his mind, he could hear the paramedics shouting at Loralei, yelling for her to fight.  As he sat inside the ambulance, he felt as if he were somehow detached.  It seemed as if he were watching a movie or television.  It wasn't happening to her or him.  It was happening to someone else, someone who deserved it.  Sadly, angrily, he watched.  He was some type of third party idiot who had no right to anything.  Helpless.  Yes.  He felt helpless.  Had he ever felt that way before?  _Had he_?  Numbness crept into his mind, seized him, and completely refused to let go.  He could hear the shouting of the paramedics, could see Loralei's prone body, heard the scream of the sirens, but he was aware of little else.  Nothing would be the same for him again.

When the ambulance stopped, it shook Donovan, brought him back to reality.  He had drifted off, and he wasn't sure where he had gone.  Once again, he felt detached from his body as Loralei was taken from the ambulance and wheeled into the emergency room.  From his faraway place, he watched himself keeping up with the gurney.  Loralei's lovely green eyes were slit open, but appeared fixed and glazed.  He hadn't seen her take one breath.  Gone forever, never to return.  He tried to go with her through the double doors marked _Hospital Staff Only_, but a fairly beefy looking orderly held him back.  Temptation nearly forced him to react to the rough handling, but he wasn't quite feeling like himself.  He suddenly felt like someone else altogether.  He was led to a waiting room with hard, torturous chairs laughingly called 'loungers.'  Calmly, he sat down but remained on the edge of his seat.  He heard nothing, saw no one.

An unnatural, agonizing amount of time passed, but Donovan hadn't moved one muscle.  No one came to speak to him.  He was simply left alone in the waiting room, dazed and confused.  He was too shocked to even get up and ask anyone about Loralei.  Of course, he was more afraid to ask than anything.  He was already convinced that Loralei was dead.  Yet, he was human.  He had to hold on to hope.  Donovan's mind was so far away that he didn't see his team or Loralei's partner enter the waiting room.  He didn't see them sit down next to him, didn't hear their nervous whispers.  They had even more bad news for him, but weren't sure how to go about it.  At this point, they figured he could only deal with one loss at a time.

"Donovan, have you heard anything," Jackson asked.  He wasn't a stupid man.  He had seen the damage, had saw all the blood.  If Kadin made it, it would be a miracle.

He was as silent and as stoic as a statue.  For a very long time, he didn't respond to Jackson.  He couldn't.  He wondered vaguely if he had forgotten how to speak.  From the corner of his eye, he could see that Jackson was about to voice his question again.  Donovan lifted his hand in a gesture of dismissal.  "She's dead.  She died on the way here.  They took her back, anyway, but I saw her take her last breath."  It was the first words he had spoken since being forced to leave Loralei.

"You don't know that," Alex said.  "If they took her back, there must be a chance of-"

Donovan fixed a cold gaze on her pretty, serene face.  For unknown reasons, he suddenly felt enraged.  "Don't you think I know death?  Don't you think I've seen it enough to say when someone is dead?  They took her back because they _had _to, not due to some shimmer of life.  I _saw_ it.  She's gone."  

Cody, Jake, Monica, and Alex exchanged a look.  They had never seen their fearless leader in such a state.  The instant he spat out his bitter words, he immediately locked himself into a cave of which there was no entrance or escape.  There was another issue weighing heavily on their minds, but how could they go about it?  Right now, Donovan was unreachable.  However, that fact of life didn't stop Bart Jackson.

"We have a matter to discuss," Jackson said.

"This isn't the time," Jake warned through clenched teeth.

Donovan's eyes fixed on Jackson's face.  "What matter is this," he demanded darkly.  "What is it?"  He felt a lurching pain in the pit of his stomach.  He was certain he knew what Jackson was going to say, but he wanted to hear the words before he dealt with the issue.

"Black Heart escaped," he said through a heavy sigh.

He felt the floor literally dropping out from under him.  His body sank into a dark, bottomless pit of despair.  Had he dreamt it all?  _Please God; please tell me this is some horrid dream.  Please let me wake up with Loralei in my arms.  Please, have mercy.  Let this be some crazy, awful nightmare that I can escape as soon as I open my eyes_.  Yet, it was another fantasy that wasn't to be.  He was a realist, and he slowly began to reconcile Jackson's words with the thought that the murdering bitch had escaped.  Rage overtook him, entered his body, and poisoned his blood.  Suddenly, he was thinking of revenge.  In some dark recess of his mind, thoughts of choking the life out of Zara Damon seemed almost…lovely.  _I should have shot her when I had the chance_.

Although he could not manage to move a short while ago, he stood up and closed the distance between him and Jackson.  He lifted the man out of his seat and glared into his eyes.  "_What do you mean **escaped**_," he roared.

Cody and Jake jumped to their feet, and each took an arm, trying desperately to pull Donovan off the other man.  It was a difficult feat, but they managed.  "This is not the time or place for this," Jake said calmly.  "Back down, Donovan, back down and let him explain."

He shook loose, but didn't approach the agent again.  At that point, at his most irrational, he would have beaten him within an inch of his life.  His sanity was waning, but he still had a good enough hold to back down.  Yet, a creeping obsession began to take him over.  "How did you let her do this," he asked, fixing an enraged stare at Jackson.  When he didn't immediately respond, Donovan roared, "_Answer me, goddamn it_!"    

"We're going to be thrown out of here if you don't lower your voice," Alex said as she eyed the ER receptionist.

Donovan ignored her.  "_Answer me_."

"She had a cuff key," Jackson finally said.  "She ran."

It wasn't a reasonable explanation, but it was enough for Donovan.  Somebody, either Jackson or the police, had fucked up and fucked up big.  An urge to take out his weapon and start shooting suddenly came to mind.  Instead of acting on his impulse, he collapsed onto a hard, thoroughly uncomfortable waiting room chair.  His head went into his hands.  He was losing his mind and had never felt like this before.

"Do you know where she went," Donovan asked, his voice muffled in his hands.

"No," Jackson said in the hushed tone of the ashamed.

*  *  *

The fucking police and goddamn FBI had frozen all her assets.  The only money she had was what had been in her purse.  Of course, the FBI didn't know she had one other identity, and a bank account to match it.  But first, she would have to make her way out of state to retrieve her drivers' license and social security card.  Until then, she had just enough money to get a sleazy room at a fleabag motel.  No one here would recognize her, even though the whole state knew about her now.  She had also made another necessary purchase:  scissors and hair dye.  She had to do whatever it took to escape and continue her plan of elimination.  She still wanted to take out Jake and the one called Donovan, but that would come later, after she reestablished her new life and captured a new prey item in her web of deceit.  

The only thing that had come out right the entire night was the shooting of the female agent.  She still had bruises and scratches where Agent Kadin had beaten her.  Of course, all the fists in the world couldn't beat the cold steel of a gun.  The agent had tried to wrestle it out of her hands, but she blindly pulled the trigger and was quite pleased with the results.  The bullets had landed right in her chest, likely embedding in her heart and lungs.  She had been tempted to put a bullet in her brain until she heard the unmistakable wail of police sirens.  There was never any time to do a job right.  She fled on foot, had almost gotten away from Donovan, but he tackled her to the ground as if he were some insane football player.  He had been rough with her as well, and she still had scratches from where he'd pressed her face against the sidewalk.  She wondered if he would like to be buried next to his lover.  Shooting him would be too easy.  She wanted to be more creative than that.  She knew he would pursue her; his grief would drive him forward blindly, insanely.

She examined her reflection in the mirror.  Her hair was cut shorter than it had ever been.  She dyed it jet-black.  She smiled at the irony.  The FBI was calling her a 'black widow,' and she supposed she fit the description perfectly now.  Yet, she didn't exactly think of herself as a black widow.  She was more like a bringer of justice, taking out the people set to destroy her, to destroy her world.  She needed money.  What she had in her possession wouldn't be enough to get a bus ticket out of Dodge.  Although she hadn't ever sold her body before, she didn't think it would be a difficult job.  She was a good actress.  After all, she had fooled a SA for over a month.  One night should get her just enough money to make it to her true destination.

*  *  *

Back at the ER, Donovan was once again locked into his own little world.  Several people were surrounding him, trying to comfort him, but he was unaware.  He was back in his faraway place, wondering what options he had left.  He had yet to hear an official declaration of Loralei's death, but he was certain she was gone.  Her death, and his failure to share his love for her until her last moments, was eating away at him.  His focus was slowly drifting from his grief to an obsessive need to hunt down the bitch and stomp the life out of her.  Normally, he was a calm, rational thinker.  If he followed through with his dark thoughts, he would be in more trouble than he had ever been.  His irrational side was lording over him, swiftly taking him over.  Earlier, it had simply crept in, but now, he couldn't think rationally if his life depended on it.  Suddenly, an urge to seek and destroy entered his mind.  He had totally forgotten his role and who he was.  This side of his personality had always been with him, of course, but it remained hidden in the dark recesses of his brain until he had the need to break it out.  The need didn't surface often, but the game had changed, and it had come right back full force.

Agent Jackson and the UC team watched curiously as Donovan stood.  He hadn't moved much at all, and the action took them all by surprise.  They expected him to make his way to the nurses' station and demand information about Loralei.  However, he totally surprised them.  He didn't look back at them once as he made his way toward the exit.  Startled, Jake called out to him, but he wasn't listening.  There was no Frank Donovan; there was only a man on a mission to avenge a wrong committed against his love.  He took quick strides away from the emergency room and began looking for a taxi.  From behind, he could hear the voices of his team, but he had blocked them out.  Who were they?  They were part of Donovan's life, not the avenger's.  He wouldn't answer to anyone.

"Boss, what are you doing," Alex yelled at him.

They all watched as Donovan stopped.  He didn't stop to converse with them or listen to their calls.  He stood as if he were contemplating some great mystery of life.  He took off his jacket and dug into its pockets.  After he found what he was looking for, he raised it up and began to stare at it.  They knew what it was without having to get a closer look.  It was his shield and picture identification.  Carelessly, he tossed it aside as if it were a piece of trash.  

Almost as a collective group, the four agents approached their boss.  "Jesus, Frank, what the hell are you doing," Jake asked.  He knew Alex had asked already, but he thought he should give it a shot.  Nothing made sense anymore.  Was he losing his mind?

Finally, after a very silent and scary moment, Donovan turned to face his crew.  "It's over," he said firmly.  "I'm hunting her down and I'm killing her, just as she killed Loralei.  She must be stopped once and for all."

"You don't know," Alex said again.

"_Enough_," he snarled.  "I know."

Without another word, he turned away from them and disappeared into the darkness.  Jake bent down and picked up Donovan's discarded shield.  None of them understood what had just happened.  He hadn't wanted to hear about Loralei, hadn't wanted to listen to reason, hadn't wanted to do anything but chase after an infallible killer.

"We have to help him," Monica said.

"If he _can_ be helped," Jake muttered.  "Somebody needs to check out Loralei.  If she's okay, I think he'll be okay.  Otherwise, he's going to end up dead or in prison."

*  *  *

Donovan hadn't wanted to return to his apartment, but he needed a few things from inside.  It was no longer a crime scene, and he was able to enter without much fuss.  Loralei's blood had stained the carpet a deep maroon.  For an undetermined amount of time, he stared at the stain.  Briefly, he kneeled beside it.  With one finger, he carefully reached over and touched the carpet.  It was damp to the touch and hadn't dried.  He pressed his finger into the carpet and drew his hand away.  He was staring at Loralei's blood, her life, and he silently swore he would end the reign of the Black Heart Killer even if it meant he would die trying.

He moved away before the stain drove him even further over the edge.  He went into the bedroom and stared down at the bed.  It hadn't been made since this morning.  His last touch, his last kiss with Loralei had been shared in this bed.  He turned away quickly, unable to even _think_ of her for a moment.  Donovan went to his closet and dug out a large duffel bag.  Without caring what he grabbed, he began to stuff clothes into the bag haphazardly.  When he was finished, he left the apartment immediately.  He didn't want to see Loralei's lifeblood again.

He cabbed over to where he'd left his car.  He threw the bag in the backseat and climbed in behind the wheel.  On automatic now, he snapped on the radio, to the police band.  A call came that made him pay careful attention:  _Body found in alley, vicinity of 9th and Madison.  Probable homicide, victim found shot._  Somehow, some way, he was certain that BHK had done this.  He could go there.  Yes.  He would go and do his own digging, his own hunting.  The hunter would become the hunted.  


	14. The Hunt Begins

THE HUNT BEGINS

Donovan drove slowly and steadily through the area mentioned on the radio call.  It was a seedier side of town where drug addled prostitutes sold their bodies for their next hit of whatever substance possessed them.  He wondered if Black Heart would waste her time around this area.  This was entirely beneath her, but seemed fitting all at the same time.  He didn't stop or pull over; he simply kept straight on the road until his sharp eyes caught sight of an ambulance and a few police cruisers.  This would be where he'd find the murdered man.  Here he would also find the crazed killer he sought.  Here his thirst for revenge would be quenched.  _All for you, my love_, he thought.

He found an empty slot in which to park his car.  He sat behind the wheel for a moment before he climbed out into the still night.  Absently, he reached under his jacket to ensure he had thought to bring his shoulder holster and revolver.  It was funny how the mind played its cruel tricks.  He seemed to be losing time and couldn't remember the simplest of things, including his weapon.  Of course, he didn't necessarily need the gun.  He could take Black Heart out with his bare hands.  In fact, that was what he preferred.  Taking a deep breath and steeling himself, he opened the car door and climbed outside.  With his dark clothing, he could easily blend in the crowd.  Several cops knew him, and probably some of them had been to his apartment earlier, but he had never had a lot of trouble blending in.

There was a crowd surrounding the crime scene.  The cops had just gotten the area secured with their yellow tape.  He saw the prone body of the victim and had to look away for a moment.  The poor unfortunate fuck had been shot in the exact same spot as Loralei.  Yes.  Black Heart was here.  He could almost smell her.  Donovan forced his eyes back onto the dead man.  The fellow was decked out in business casual type of dress.  He had apparently come to this side of town for drugs, sex, or a little of both.  Whatever the case, he had died in the same vicious manner as Loralei.  It was the only evidence he needed.  His eyes began to scan the crowd.  Black Heart wasn't stupid, but she was a serial killer, and like most serial killers, she would eventually return to the crime scene to witness the havoc she wreaked.  Dozens of women milled about, most of them streetwalkers, but none of them possessed the sharp, almost cutting features of the black widow.  He wasn't stupid enough to think she would still be a redhead.  She had to know he was after her.

Donovan held her body down roughly on the sidewalk.  His knee was placed squarely in her back, and his hand had pressed her cheek against the rough concrete.  She was struggling beneath him, trying desperately to throw his body off hers.  He held fast.  She would not get away from him, not this time, not ever again.  Black Heart was screaming at him, cursing him, and laughing about his bleeding lover.  At that point, he had blanked her words out of his mind.  She was trying to get to him, to weaken his hold.  It didn't work.  He, in fact, pressed down harder.  In his position, it would have been so very easy to snap her neck and let go.  He would have one hell of a price to pay for his act, but he questioned whether or not it would be worth it.  His rational side won out, and he backed away to allow the cops to secure her.  He had Loralei to think about, and for the moment, being with her was the most important mission before him.

He snapped out of his daze.  He had lost time again.  For a moment, he had forgotten where he was, what his mission was.  He saw the dead man, gazed at his blood until he thought he might pass out.  _Stay focused, you must stay focused_, he thought.  His eyes began to obsessively scan the crowd again.  The bitch had to be out here, this murder was her own special calling card.  She was toying with him, begging him to find her, and he would.  He would not stop.  Not now.  Not ever.

She lingered near the dead man's body for as long as she dared.  To her utter delight, he was fairly well off and enjoyed the occasional romp with the local prostitutes.  The moment he saw her, he said he _had_ to have her.  She was new, different than all the other girls.  Of course, she willingly obliged to be his 'date' for an hour or so.  He didn't want anything more than a good blowjob [his words, not hers].  She hated doing that more than any sexual act that existed, but she needed his money.  She went down on her knees and gave him exactly what he asked for.  At the completion of the act, she stood up, dug out her weapon, and fired two bullets in his chest.  He actually hadn't had time to realize what had happened to him.  He lay dying, much as the bitch lover of Donovan before him, when she went through his pockets.  She found what she'd been looking for and opened it.  A twisted triumphant smile touched her lips as she glanced at the wad of cash in the wallet.  He was an idiot to carry this kind of cash in this neighborhood.  Oh well.  His stupidity became her windfall.  When she began thumbing through the wallet, she found several credit cards.  The dumb bastard had written his pin number right on the cards.  It would do for extra cash.  She would have to make quick work of it, though, because his body would be found soon.

With a wad of cash in her possession, she went back to the scene.  As she thought, someone had found him; the police were crawling all over the place.  It made her feel quite good to see how her deeds had garnered such attention.  Her murder spree, plus shooting a federal agent, had given her a nice slice of notoriety.  She wondered how long it would take for Hollywood to make a movie about her.  She giggled a little and felt a delicious tingle rush though her entire body.  Her happiness was short-lived.  She saw him before he saw her.  He had tried to be nondescript, to blend in, but for her, he stuck out like a sore thumb.  He had come after her, just as she knew he would.  She wasn't ready to kill him yet.  She wanted to wait to get to her bank account before she came back to finish the job.  He wouldn't recognize her.  She didn't look like the same person anymore.  Suddenly, her morbid curiosity waned.  She must escape, and escape _now_.

Donovan's eyes detected movement from the far end of the crowd.  He didn't immediately notice if the person was a woman.  Not caring who it was, he began to make his way toward the movement.  The lone figure broke from the crowd.  At that moment, he could see it was a female.  He was surprised at how calm he was.  He should have acted on instinct and ran after her, but he didn't.  Instead, he calmly began to stroll through the people on the sidewalk.  He didn't understand how he could remain so utterly sedate.  Inside, his rage boiled, threatening to spill over.  The woman didn't look back at him once.  A fleeting thought, one belonging to rational Donovan, entered his mind.  Perhaps he was wrong.  Perhaps this was not Black Heart.  Yet, his rational side no longer ruled him.  He was certain he was trailing his quarry.

She sensed someone was following her, and she clearly knew it was the crazed agent.  She had to elude him, to find a way out.  At this point in the game, she couldn't be caught.  She had to rebuild her fortune.  The money she had stashed away wouldn't last forever.  She needed more men, more fortunes.  How would she get it locked behind bars, or worse still, executed?  _No Nononononono_, she screamed to herself.  This couldn't be happening.  She had to get away, to find a nice hiding place.  This psycho would not ruin her plans.  Even though panic entered her and became her intimate friend, she did not pick up the pace.  It would appear too suspicious.

Donovan continued to keep up a steady pace behind her.  He was no longer unsure of her identity.  What he was unsure of was why he hadn't struck out.  When he caught her before, he hadn't hesitated to pounce.  But now, he had made a few city blocks casually strolling behind her as if he were a tourist.  He was making his own plan, thinking out what he wanted to do to her once he caught her.  Those dark, evil thoughts scared the part of him that was still rational.  Oh, the idea seemed more attractive the longer he thought about it.  What could he do?  Should he shoot her?  Strangle her?  Throw her in front of an oncoming train?  What he wanted more than anything was for her to trade places with Loralei.  It should be this cold-hearted bitch laid out on a morgue slab, not his dear, sweet lover. 

Ahead of her, in the distance, he could just make out another crowd of people.  They were approaching a better part of town where most of the good bars were located.  He tried to recall what day it was, but for the life of him, he couldn't remember.  Whatever night it was, it was obvious what was going on a few blocks up.  This was a weekly pub-crawl, and dozens of people, most of whom were college students, were out bar hopping from club to club.  If she managed to make it to the mass of people, he knew she could disappear.  He didn't want that.  It was time for irrational Donovan to make his move.  He began to run behind her, quickly closing the distance between them.

She heard the slapping of his feet behind her.  She had no choice but to run.  If she could make it to the crowd, she could disappear amongst the safety of dozens upon dozens of bodies.  Her new look would blend in well.  She sprinted forward, realizing that if she didn't stop soon, she wouldn't make it.  She was in poor physical shape and was already winded.  It also unnerved her that the agent did not speak or yell or curse at her.  He ran without making a sound, not even breathing heavily.  He could easily gain the upper hand in this deal, and she didn't like that at all.  The crowd was just within reach, and he finally made a noise.  It was unlike anything she had ever heard before.  It was a cross between the vicious snarl of a wild animal and the low groan of a man possessed by some demonic spirit.  She would never hear a sound like that again, not in this life.  For the first time since her game began, she was afraid.

Donovan watched in utter disbelief as she dove into the crowd.  Not once did he take his eyes off her.  If he lost sight of the back of her head, he would lose her.  Of course, it mattered little to him.  If she escaped tonight, there was always tomorrow.  He would go wherever she went, follow her until the day he drew his own last breath.  He dove into the crowd after her, the back of her dark shirt within inches of his grasp.  He reached out to grab her and pull her back, but a young man with rock hard muscles thwarted his move.  He bumped right into Donovan, knocking him flat on his ass.  Part of him wanted to beat the kid within an inch of his life, but he was focused on catching Black Heart.  He jumped to his feet quickly, shoving away the helping hand of the kid.  She was gone.  He had lost her.  Yet, his stubborn side wouldn't allow him to give up.  He continued plodding through the crowd, searching endlessly, hunting until his body ached and his brain felt like mush.  

Toward dawn, he slowly walked back to his car.  Although ruled by obsession and rage, he was still human.  He was utterly exhausted and drained.  He had no need for a hotel room; he wanted to stay in the car, to stake out the area.  He wouldn't miss her again.  He grabbed onto the handle below the seat and pushed it back as far as it would go.  It would be an uncomfortable bed, but he didn't care.  There would be no true rest for him until the deed was done.

*  *  *

Cody, Jake, Monica, and Alex were still at the hospital.  They hadn't seen or heard from Donovan in several hours.  They had no idea where he had disappeared.  Jake uttered a low 'fuck it' under his breath and excused himself.  Several minutes later, he found what he was looking for:  a payphone.  He knew from experience that Donovan never went anywhere without his cell phone.  Even if the boss had gone off the deep end, he wouldn't leave behind his connection to the outside world.  He had to be told about Loralei.  He had to know.  He plugged a couple of quarters into the payphone and dialed Donovan's number.  It rang its standard five rings before the voice mail kicked on.

"Donovan," Jake said, "I don't know where you are or what is going on inside, but you need to come back to earth.  You need to call one of us.  It's about Loralei.  There's something you have to know."

*  *  *

Donovan had heard the cell phone ring.  He had laid it out in the seat beside him.  He didn't make an attempt to grab the phone; it was a tool of the rational Donovan.  Since he was not that man anymore, he had no use for it.  He was certain the caller was one of the team, but he had no interest in speaking to them or even seeing them.  They would interfere with his plans; throw an unnecessary wrench in the cogs of his machinery.  When the phone stopped ringing, he picked it up and retrieved the number.  The caller id said 'payphone.'  Whoever had called also left a message.  If it were yesterday, he might have cared.  It wasn't.  It was today, and he was a different man.  He tossed the phone onto the passenger seat and leaned back.

*  *  *

"I tried to call," Jake said to the others.  "He isn't answering his phone.  We need to find him before he's lost."

"Damn you, Donovan," Alex whispered.  "Just answer your damn phone."

    


	15. A Life in the Balance

AUTHOR'S NOTE:  Please forgive my garbled techno wizard stuff that appears later in the chapter.  I'm sure I've screwed something up!  [smiles]  I apologize in advance!

***********************************************************************************************

A LIFE IN THE BALANCE

He came awake slowly, unsure what had made him open his eyes.  He decided it had to be the creeping approach of sunrise.  It was time to pick up and move.  He at least wanted to travel down the street and keep his eyes open for any sightings of Black Heart.  Donovan groaned when the cell phone began to ring again.  _Why did I shut the fucking thing off_, he thought.  Once his grudging trademark, the phone was now a nuisance.  He picked it up and snapped it open, peering down at the screen with little or no interest.  The number was familiar, and it took him a moment to realize it was Alex's personal number.  His memory was slipping again.  He didn't understand why they continued to call when it was blatantly obvious that he had no desire to speak to anyone.  Could they not take a hint?  Temptation from rational Donovan nearly forced him to retrieve his voice mail messages.  However, his irrational side won out once again.  He closed the phone and tossed it back onto the seat beside him.  Wonderingly, he stared down at the little black annoyance.  Donovan's hand reached out and grasped it.  He snapped it open again and stared down at the screen until his eyes began to burn from the exertion.  They were trying desperately to contact him, and he was _almost_ close to tossing aside his hunger for revenge just long enough to check the voice mail.  Something stopped him cold.

Images of Loralei began to surface.  His mind played back to the previous day.  _Had it only been **one** day_?  Jesus, it seemed like ten years.  He saw the blood covering her chest, her hands, and streaked on her face.  He saw the way it seeped into the carpet, forever staining it, forever staining his heart.  Detached now, he saw himself in the ambulance with her, holding her hand, begging her to live.  He heard her urgent words, telling him she had no time.  Most painful of all, he heard her agonized whisper of 'I love you' before he could even speak the words himself.  She drew her last, weakened breath, the air puffing out into his face, barely feeling like anything at all.  He saw the victorious smile of the killer as she bragged about taking Loralei down.  Those images, thoughts, and sounds abruptly cut off any urge that existed to check his voice mail.  He snapped the phone closed again and clenched it in his fist.  He wanted to crush it to tiny bits, to inflict the pain eating away at his soul, even on an unfeeling cell phone.  His rage was sadly misdirected.  Slowly, the impulse to crush the phone drifted away.  Like it or not, irrational Donovan needed the phone.  After he caught and destroyed Black Heart, he would make the call and face whatever consequences awaited him.  _All for you, my love_.

*  *  *

Later, the UC crew was gathered at the office, huddled together behind Cody, the human super computer.  Donovan had yet to shut off his phone, and that action alone confused them, but it was a good thing.  Cody was vigorously trying to set up some type of direction find on Donovan's cell.  The task would prove difficult without a tracking device.  The job was annoying, but he was persistent enough to pound away until his efforts were successful or until he lost his mind [the latter was more likely to happen].  Instead of the boss breathing down his neck, three other people, right now just as intense as he, were pushing him beyond all limits.

"If he's got the phone on, that says something, doesn't it," Jake asked.  "Why would he bother at all if he didn't want to maintain some type of contact?"

"He's what the JD considers a rogue," Monica said.  "He's gone.  There's probably nothing of his old self still inside.  He has his phone to report when his mission is complete.  Don't you get it?  He doesn't want to come back.  We have to find him before the high hats at the JD discover he's missing.  If he only knew-"

Alex cut her off.  "It won't take long for the head people to find out.  You know that the central office calls him constantly," Alex said.  "No telling how many people he reports to on a daily basis."

Jake suddenly remembered something, or rather someone.  "What about Loralei's partner?  Do you think he'll report it?"

"Goddamn," Alex swore.  "I forgot about him.  Is he still at the hospital?"

"I don't know, but we need to find out."

*  *  *

Donovan came slowly out of his daze.  For the hundredth time, he realized that he had lost time.  He had to get moving, or he would miss the Black Heart leaving town, and he knew she would leave.  For now, nothing here interested her.  Without hesitating, he turned over the engine and gunned it to life.  Staring straight ahead, he threw the car in gear and pulled out onto the street.  Morning traffic was light; it was early, with rush hour still more than two hours away.  This would be the perfect time for him to see her as she made her escape.  Without thinking, he snapped on the radio.  The police band had become an obsession.  It kept him connected to Black Heart's deeds.

He drove slowly, cautiously, but not so slow that he would attract a police officer.  He didn't need to be pulled over, at least not yet.  There were several dilapidated motels on the right side of the street.  Most of them were 'rent a room by the hour.'  Again, he wondered what, if anything, had attracted her to this side of town.  _Think, you dumbass.  This is where she can be anybody she wants, and no one will care_.  Of course, that was it.  Every law enforcement agency in the city, probably the country, knew of her.  Yet, the people who called this area their turf were the dregs of humanity.  It was the home of drug addicts, prostitutes, and any other person labeled as a 'derelict.'  Although harsh, Donovan knew that if one of these folks died, the cops wouldn't break their necks to solve the crime.  Only when a more 'desirable' person died did law enforcement seem to care, especially law enforcement in larger cities.  _What am I_, he thought gruffly, _a sociologist_?  He shook his head to clear away the distractions.  She couldn't escape him again.  If she left the city, he would still pursue her, but the job would be slightly more complex.

Donovan slowed down as he passed one of the seedy motels.  He had no idea what it was about the hotel that intrigued him.  Glancing in his rearview mirror and seeing nothing behind him, he threw the car into reverse and parked a few slots down from the front of the motel.  _She's here_.  He had seemingly sniffed her out.  He had no basis to justify his feelings.  He just _knew_.  Checking his weapon and ammo, he stepped out in the chilly morning air and sauntered casually toward the front door.  The interior of the hotel was worse than the exterior.  It was dimly lit and reminded him of a hideout one might see in an old '40s mobster movie.  Dust floated freely in the air and tickled his nose.  In the center of the sparsely furnished room sat an enclosed 'check-in' desk.  It was surrounded by bulletproof glass, and had one small hole in which to exchange money for a room or whatever else.  A middle-aged man sat behind the glass desperately trying to hide his bald head with a hideous toupee.  Donovan tried to keep his eyes off it as he approached the desk.

"We don't sell no drugs here," the man said suspiciously as he eyed Donovan's black attire.

It was almost funny.  If he hadn't been so focused on his job at hand, he might have laughed.  "I don't want drugs.  I'm looking for a woman."

"Well buddy," he cackled.  "You won't find any in here.  They're all on the streets.  Now once you find one, you're welcome to bring her right over."  The man was making him nervous.  His eyes were cold, with no life in them.  The last man who came in here like that ended up renting a room just so he could eat a bullet.

"You don't understand," he said calmly.  "I'm looking for a specific woman.  I think she's staying in your _fine_ establishment."  He didn't give the clerk time to react to his biting sarcasm.  "She's tall, probably five eight or nine, and thin.  Very long legs.  Her eyes are piercing and green.  Her hair is cut short, and when I saw her last, it was jet black.  Does this sound familiar to you?"

It did.  He had been on duty when the girl checked in.  However, when she came into the motel, her hair was shoulder length and bright red.  When she checked out very early this morning, her hair was black.  He thought the girl was kind of hot, and he flirted helplessly with her, but she wouldn't give him the time of day.  "Sure, she was here.  I think she said her name was…uh…"  He turned to look at the reservation log.  "Oh yeah, here it is.  She checked in under the name Loralei Kadin."

A sharp pain erupted in Donovan's chest and ballooned out larger than life itself.  It felt as if he'd been stabbed straight through the heart.  She was toying with him again, torturing him, and hitting where he lived.  His enormous rage compelled him to drive his body forward and break through the glass.  He could have strangled the life out of this man.  He took a deep breath and let it out slowly.  His anger was misdirected again.  _How dare she use Loralei's name.  How fucking dare she_.  The unexpected cruelty didn't exactly catch him off guard, but it hurt just the same.  His hands itched to wrap around her throat and squeeze until her eyes bugged out and her face turned blue.  _The time will come.  Be patient and hold onto your sanity for just a few moments longer_.

"Is she still here," he asked, containing a snarl.

"Uh, no, sir.  She checked out a few hours ago."  The clerk was profoundly grateful for the bulletproof glass.  This fellow seemed ready to kill him.

"I want to see her room," he demanded.

He wanted to deny him access, but he was afraid to refuse him at the same time.  Mutely, he turned to a safe and unlocked it.  Dozens of keys hung inside.  He plucked one off a hook and quietly slid it toward him.  "You'll find the room just up the stairs on floor two.  It's 214."

Donovan took the key without a 'thank you,' 'fuck you,' or 'see you later.'  He gripped the key in his hand so tightly that the teeth were digging grooves into the palm of his hand.  Grimly, he climbed the stairs up to the second floor.  Even at this early hour, he could hear the muffled sounds of patrons practicing their bizarre sexual rituals.  He blocked it out as he progressed down the hallway.  He stuck the key into the lock of 214 and turned the knob.  Black Heart had left quite a mess.  He stepped inside the room and noticed black hair dye all over the sink, floor, and walls of the bathroom.  There were hair clippings scattered all over the place.  What drew most of his attention was a discarded credit card.  Without touching it, he glanced down at it.  _John D. Grizzell_ was inscribed on it.  Donovan didn't doubt that Mr. Grizzell had been the dead man on the street.  She had left evidence behind.  Her work was getting shabby.  Of course, he felt that she was continuously toying with him, leaving clues behind.  A small notebook had been left behind as well.  He dug a pen from his jacket and flipped it open.  It was another slap to the face.  Written all over one page was _Loralei Donovan_.  Sickened by the sight, and the pain in his heart, he closed it and backed away.

The clerk looked up as the haunted fellow made his way toward him.  Quietly, he slid the key over to the clerk.  "You might want to call the police," Donovan said.  "This woman killed a man last night.  His credit card was left behind."

*  *  *

While Jake and Alex had hotfooted it to the hospital, Cody and Monica stayed behind as Cody desperately tried to triangulate the location of Donovan's cell phone.  "Praise GOD," he yelled suddenly.

Monica focused her dark eyes on his face.  "Did you do it?"

"He's using the phone.  I got him, I _finally_ got him," he shouted.  "The signal is coming from west of town."

"The airport!  He's going toward the airport!"

*  *  *

Bart Jackson sat in the room with Geneva Kadin, Loralei's mother.  As soon as Geneva received Jackson's call, she hadn't hesitated to catch the first flight out.  Her husband had promised to follow her lead as soon as he dealt with their business affairs at home.  She sat in a quiet kind of shock beside the fellow who had partnered her child.  She didn't understand how her little girl had gotten so torn up.  It wasn't an easy thought for her to reconcile.  She remembered when Loralei announced her desire to join the FBI.  Geneva and Will Kadin had supported her decision, but they didn't understand it.  They watched the news; they understood what happened to federal agents.  They died.  Now, her sweet child was-  

A man and woman suddenly burst into the waiting room, breaking up Geneva's thoughts.  She looked up at a dark complexioned man and a woman with penetrating eyes.  The FBI agent seemed to recognize the pair.

"We're sorry to interrupt at a time like this," Alex said apologetically, "but could we possibly speak to you for a minute, Agent Jackson?"

He stood and walked toward two fifths of the UC team.  "Of course."  He followed them outside.  "Any word on Donovan?"

They each shook their heads at almost the same time.  "No," Jake said.  "But we've got Cody trying to track him down.  Do any of the fed higher ups know about Donovan?"

"No, not from my mouth," he said.  "I haven't left the hospital.  I had to wait here for Mrs. Kadin."

"Donovan's had some kind of breakdown, and we're trying to find him before the JD director does.  We're asking that you don't say anything to your superiors.  If anyone asks, tell them he's still here at the hospital," Jake explained.  "If we can find him, talk to him, he'll be okay."

"What about Loralei?  What is the status," Alex asked.

Jackson didn't say anything.  Instead, he quietly led Alex and Jake down a narrow hallway.  They stopped short of an opened doorway, and Alex gasped aloud.  Jake shook his head and sighed sadly.  Loralei's prone body lay inside the sterile room.  The blood had been cleaned off, of course, but the condition of her was still hard to take.  Machines hooked into her did the breathing for her.

"Last report we got, she's comatose, but they expect her to come out of it any time.  She's critical, but stable.  She _did_ die on the ambulance, but they brought her back.  You have to find Donovan.  His presence is key to her survival."

As Jake, Alex, and Jackson made their way back to the waiting room, a cell phone twittered.  Alex had forgotten that she had even brought it in with her.  Quickly, she ran outside, dug it out of her jacket pocket, and hit 'send.'  

"What is it," she said onto the phone.

"We've got him," Cody's voice said.  "He's headed to the airport."

_Thank God, thank God, thank God_, she thought.  "Try sending him a text message," she suggested.  "He may ignore it as well, but try anyway.  Tell him Loralei is alive and that she needs him."      


	16. Restoration of Sanity

RESTORATION OF SANITY

Donovan coasted his vehicle in and out of the quickly thickening traffic.  Black Heart intended to fly out today.  He had found out easily enough.  He sat out in his car and called every airline known to man.  After several tries, and almost giving up, he hit pay dirt.  A woman paid for an airline ticket with another of John D. Grizzell's credit cards.  It appeared that the vile black widow was making her way to Louisiana.  He checked his wristwatch and saw that he had some time to stop her from boarding that flight.  Today, it would end with either she or he in a body bag.  At the moment, he didn't care which way it ended.  Beside him, his cell phone chirped as a text message came in.  As he had done before, he ignored it.  He had little time to concern himself with his persistent former team members.

*  *  *

She leaned back in the uncomfortable chair.  It didn't matter that it was hard and unyielding; she had never felt so relaxed.  She had snuck out right under that agent's nose.  She had played him like a violin.  It would be fun to regroup in Louisiana and think up creative ways to kill him when the time came.  Her new name, of course, was Loralei Donovan.  In a way, it was a wonderfully apt name.  She had killed one and would kill the other.  Oh, the beauty of it all.  Escaping a man such as this one felt better than inheriting millions.  Well, almost.  She smiled as she thought about the look on his face when she ducked into the crowd.  Idiot.  How in the world did he think he would catch her?  No one had, not for long.

*  *  *

In a sterile hospital room, Agent Loralei Kadin opened her eyes.  Something was stuck in her throat and a great crushing pain had settled itself on her chest.  She had no idea where she was or what happened to her.  Her first thought didn't center on herself or her condition.  She thought only of Frank Donovan and wondered where he was.

*  *  *

The airport was particularly crowded today.  It was still relatively early, though, and the sheer number of travelers shocked him.  Donovan casually strolled toward the terminal where Black Heart should be waiting for her flight out.  She was here; there was no doubt in his mind.  Again, he was surprised at how calm he actually felt.  He assumed it was because he knew this was it, the final showdown of them all.  He had carried his cell phone with him, but couldn't begin to explain why.  It seemed that it chirped every five minutes.  He vaguely wondered when the damn battery would give out.  It dawned on him.  Oh yes.  He would need to make a call.  The battery couldn't die yet.  He couldn't stay focused, couldn't remember anything.  When would he stop feeling like this?  Perhaps once he took care of her, his mind would be back to normal.  He chuckled bitterly.  Normal.  What was that?  Normal had ended the moment he walked out of the hospital.  Normal was for someone else.

He entered the terminal and saw dozens of people hurrying along to get to whatever gate they needed.  For a moment, he felt as if he were moving in slow motion as he walked through the throngs of people.  He didn't intend to shoot her; there were too many people in harms way for that.  He would take her out with his bare hands.  He had made his decision, and he would stick to it.  With anger-blackened eyes, he scanned the area, looking for Black Heart.  He absolutely refused to think of her by her new name.  If he spoke it aloud, he thought he might end up in a mental hospital.  

Donovan didn't notice, but the rushing travelers kept giving him suspicious, nervous glances.  He didn't realize that he was a wreck.  He hadn't changed clothes or showered or shaved or combed his hair.  They thought of this tall, harried man as some type of wild-eyed terrorist.  Several people approached security and told them of this psychotic man with murder in his eyes.

Bored now, she reached over and grabbed a magazine she had bought earlier.  Ironically enough, it was _Fortune_ magazine.  She had always enjoyed thumbing through it.  It was like a yearbook for victims.  Perhaps she would find something in there about _Louisiana_ millionaires.  She crossed her long legs and received several appreciative glances.  However, she wasn't paying attention to anything other than her magazine and her continuous quest for wealthy flies.  She didn't notice the enraged man standing a few feet away from her.  

He saw her legs before he saw her face.  She had shielded it from view with a magazine.  The legs were enough for him.  The woman hiding behind yet another mask was Black Heart.  From his left, he noticed airport security approaching while speaking quietly into their radios.  Apparently, he was deemed a suspicious character.  For the life of him, he didn't know why.  From his right, he noticed two familiar figures making their way toward them.  Ah.  He had to admire their stubborn refusal to let go.  Perhaps they had taken a lesson from him.  He didn't attempt to escape.  His mind was set on one thing, and one thing only.  Without making a sound, he charged forward, and knocked Black Heart right out of her chair.

Donovan was on top of her now, and she screamed and hissed like a pissed off cat.  When he had tackled her out of her chair, she landed on her stomach.  It wasn't good enough for him.  He wanted her to see his face as he wrapped his hands around her throat.  He wanted her to see him as he inflicted every ounce of pain Loralei had felt.  He wanted to hear her take her last breath.  None too gently, he turned her over and she began to kick, scream, spit, and curse.  He heard nothing, saw nothing.  The mission was almost complete.  His hands came down toward her throat.  She lifted her hand up and planted it firmly against his chin in an effort to ward him off.  It didn't work.  He reasoned that his arms were plenty long enough.  His eyes were fixed and crazed, and until today, she had never been so close to the face of death.  Before one finger touched her flesh, several sets of strong hands clamped down on each of his arms.  Security had finally arrived.

"He just tried to _kill_ me for no reason," she hissed.  "I don't even know him!"

Again, Donovan heard nothing, saw nothing.  He kept his murderous glare fixed on her, and horrifyingly enough, he had begun to snarl.  He struggled against the hands holding him, and all the while, he never broke his gaze.  He couldn't even speak.

"_Federal agents_," Jake yelled as he ran over to them.  He flashed his shield at one of the security guards as Alex came up from the rear.  "He's with us, on a special assignment.  This woman is wanted in several states."  He fixed his own murderous gaze on her face.  "Do you know me," he asked through clenched teeth.

Black Heart ran.  Donovan struggled against the guards until he freed himself.  Alex took off after Donovan while Jake worked busily to placate the security guards.  Donovan caught up to her quickly enough and he slammed his body into hers, taking hold of her arm at the same time.  She went face down onto the floor and the full weight of his body came down on top of her.  He once again went about the task of flipping her over to face him, but a hand gripped his shoulder tightly.

"Let her go, Frank," Alex said sternly.  "Let me take care of her.  She won't get away.  If you don't let go, your life is over.  Do you understand?  _Your life will be over_.  She's not worth it.  She's not worth giving up your life.  _Let her go_."

Rational Donovan heard her words, made sense of them, but his need for vengeance hadn't been met just yet.  He refused to let go, and wouldn't have if Alex hadn't administered a savage blow to the back of his neck, hard enough to knock him out, hard enough to nearly break her hand.

*  *  *

Donovan awoke with a massive headache and stiff neck.  His body was laid out on a thin mattress.  He sat up suddenly, realizing his mistake instantly as his head swam sickly.  He glanced around at his surroundings.  This room was some type of holding cell.  He was in jail.  _What the fuck_, he thought in confusion.  For a moment, he didn't know what was going on.  It didn't take long for him to remember.  Black Heart.  The bitch.  Where the fuck was she?  He stood up [another mistake] and his head began to spin again.  Someone had hit him.  He caressed the nape of his neck and tried to remember.  Alex.  Alex had hit him.  What the hell?  He sat down hard on the cot and held his head in his hands.  He had failed Loralei and himself.  Not one easily thwarted, he would finish the job as soon as he could escape this tiny room.  He didn't move until he heard a key rattling in the door.  He looked up into the faces of Jake and Alex standing in the doorway.  Both of them stood staring at him solemnly.  Alex's hand was wrapped and held up close to her body.

"I suggest the you move.  If I must, I'll go through you both," he said gruffly.

"Would you cut the shit and listen for a minute," Jake spat.  "She's secure, Donovan.  We saw to that."

"Do you think that matters to me," he asked harshly.  "Do you think that will stop me?  She will die, by my hands and mine alone."

"_Shut up and listen_," Jake demanded.  "Look at your phone, Boss.  Look at the damn thing.  Nobody took it away from you before they threw you in here.  I made sure of that.  Look at the damn phone, read the text messages."

He was too angered and flabbergasted to do anything other than honor Jake's request.  Dazedly, he dug out the phone and snapped it open.  He hit a button and entered a code.  There were at least fifteen text messages awaiting him.  All of them said the same thing:  _Loralei is alive.  She needs you_.  He gazed down at the message and read it again and again.  It made as much sense to him as advanced algebra made to a five-year-old.  It couldn't be.  He had been with her in the ambulance.  He saw her die.  Was this some type of cruel trick to fool him into thinking he didn't need to carry out his mission?  Was that it?  He was angry and shocked at the same time.  He wasn't sure what to believe anymore.

Donovan gazed up into the faces of Alex and Jake.  He swallowed a huge lump in his throat that threatened to choke the life out of him.  "Is this some kind of game," he asked.  

"No.  We would _never_ hurt you like that," Alex said.  "Go to the hospital and see for yourself.  She died in the ambulance, but they brought her back.  If you don't go to her, she _will _be gone forever.  Snap out of it and _help_ her."

*  *  *

He allowed Jake and Alex to escort him to the hospital.  He still couldn't believe it.  He kept staring at the phone, revisiting all those messages he had chosen to ignore.  When he saw the time on the first message, bitter tears began to fall out of his eyes.  He didn't regret the time spent hunting down the black widow.  What he regretted was the fact that he could have taken that time and spent it with Loralei.  It was a harsh fact of life that made his heart ache more than the thought of her death.  As if in a dream, he drifted from the car to the double doors of the hospital.  He followed mutely behind the two agents as they led him down a narrow hallway toward ICU.  It couldn't be true.  How could it?  _How_?  How could she live?  

As they neared the room, a nurse said, "You cannot stay long.  She needs to stay calm for the next forty-eight hours."

He stepped up to the open doorway of the white, sterile room.  _Loralei_.  Her body was prone and unmoving.  Her chest rose and fell, incredibly, on its own.  There was plenty of machinery and tubes attached to her here and there, but she was wonderfully, beautifully, incredibly alive.  For a very long time, he couldn't move, and he didn't notice as Alex and Jake slipped away.  He could only stare helplessly at her from the door.  His feet finally began to move his body forward.  As he approached the bedside, he couldn't believe that he had a second chance to say the things he didn't say, to do the things he didn't do.  He looked down at her.  Her eyes were closed and she was resting so very peacefully.  His eyes wondered to her chest.  The very act of her breathing held him transfixed.  He closed his eyes for a moment against the tears that threatened to overtake him.  He had lost his mind, had sank into some crazed abyss.  All along, she had been alive.  All along, she had needed him.

"All for you, my love," he whispered.  

He kissed two of his fingers and placed them briefly on her forehead.  He then dragged a chair over to her bedside and sat down.  He took her cold hand into his, transferring his warmth, his life.  His other hand caressed her hair.  What he wouldn't give to see her beautiful eyes open and gazing up at him.

"I love you, Loralei," he said.  "I have failed you miserably, but it will never happen again.  If you've made it this far, you can make it all the way.  I need you in my life to surprise me, to keep kicking my ass when I get out of line.  I lost you once, I don't ever want to lose you again."

"Sir," a voice said from behind him.  It was the nurse.  "Sir, I'm sorry, but you should go."

He nodded and then looked up at her.  "Do you think she heard me," he asked.

"I'm sure she did."

He brought her hand up to his lips and kissed it gently.  "I'm here for you.  I'm sorry I wasn't here sooner."

Donovan released her hand and laid it gently atop her stomach.  He didn't want to leave the room, but he understood that she had a very long road of recovery ahead of her, and she would need all the rest she could get.  With one last look at her, he stood and left the room.  Jackson, Alex, Jake, and who he assumed was Loralei's parents sat awaiting him.  The Kadins weren't sure what role this tall stranger had played in their daughter's shooting, but he definitely looked like hell.

"Who are you," Geneva Kadin demanded.

_Who am I_, he thought.  _Who am I?  Sometimes I ask myself the same thing_.  "You're Loralei's parents," he stated rather than questioned.  "I'm Frank Donovan, and I'm in love with your daughter."  Leaving it at that, he moved away from the small crowd and planted his body firmly into a chair.

"Were you with her when this happened?"

Donovan looked up into the face of Loralei's mother.  They shared the same hair and eye color.  Her father hadn't approached him.  He stayed behind with Jackson, probably blaming him.  "No."

"Are you…FBI?"

"Not exactly," he answered.  She was studying him curiously through eyes the same depth in shade as Loralei's.  It hurt a little just looking into them.  She appeared to want some type of explanation from this man who claimed to love her daughter.  "We were helping her and Agent Jackson with a case.  The case literally blew up in our faces.  When this happened to her, she was at my apartment, and I was on my way to pick her up.  I couldn't…couldn't get to her in time."

He buried his face into his hands.  He was exhausted.  He had never been so tired.  Now that he knew Loralei would live, his hyped up adrenaline had begun to slack off.  On top of that, he had to face Loralei's parents, to let them know he had failed their daughter.  The grief gnawed at him, still so very incredible and fresh.  He wanted to go back to Loralei, to crawl into her bed and hold her.  Fresh tears welled in his eyes, everything seemingly hitting him all at once.  

The gentle hand of Geneva Kadin fell on his trembling shoulder.  "She will live, Mr. Donovan, and it's probably because of you," she said softly.

He didn't want to hear it, didn't want to hear the 'good' thing he had done.  For every good thing he had brought into Loralei's life, it was overshadowed by his own insanity.  However temporary it was, it nearly drove him away from her.  Mingled with that was sheer utter joy and relief.  His lover had not died, and he wouldn't fail to tell her he loved her every day.        


	17. The Wait Is Over

EPILOGUE--THE WAIT IS OVER

Donovan left the hospital just long enough to clean up and change clothes.  During his brief respite, he put in for a leave of absence.  He didn't intend to leave Loralei's side until her health significantly improved.  During her forty-eight hour waiting period, he wasn't allowed to spend very much time with her, and what little time he had was shared with her parents.  They maintained a touchy relationship, with neither parent completely understanding the depth of his love for Loralei when they had only been together a short time.

During the whole time Donovan was with her, Loralei never opened her eyes.  The nurses had informed him she probably couldn't.  She had to be given sedatives to keep her body from moving around too much.  Any extra stress on her heart had the potential to make it fail.  The bullets from the crazed woman's gun hadn't pierced her heart.  They missed by mere fractions, but had caused some damage to her lungs, which had prompted the hospital to put her on a respirator for a while.  Donovan's hatred for the Black Heart had not abated, but he didn't think about her much.  Loralei was top priority.  All the same, though, Jake had paid a visit to her and assured him that she would not escape any time soon.

He sat with her, eyes closed, head lowered, and his lips barely touching her hand.  He hadn't heard her voice in so long, and he couldn't wait until she was taken out of this danger zone.  He didn't want to think of her in pain or hurting, but he would have given his right arm to hear one word come out of her mouth.  That would be the only proof to him that she would _really_ be okay.  Until that moment, he would not leave her.

A weakened voice, barely above a whisper said, "We never had our talk."

His fog lifted and he raised his head.  Confused and startled, he gazed at her.  For a moment, he thought he had been hallucinating or dreaming.  Her beautiful green eyes were open and focused on his face.  How long had he wished she would speak?  Unbelievably, he didn't know what to say to her first.  He gazed at her mutely, feeling increasingly stupid.  He kissed her hand and felt her fingers grasping his as tightly as her weakened condition would allow.

Finding his voice, he said, "No, we didn't, did we?"

A faint smile touched her lips.  "No.  I've heard everything you've said," she began.  "I have so much I want to say to you."

"Not unless you're up to it, Loralei," he said softly.

She drew her hand away from his and allowed it to drift up to his face.  "There is never a better time than right now."  She moved her hand back down to his, entwining her fingers with his.  "I think I'm up to it.  I don't remember very much of that ride to the hospital, but I do remember telling you that I love you.  And I do, Frank, I…I do."  Tears had begun to fill her eyes.

His other hand raised up to caress her hair.  "I know," he said.  "I've known since the last time we spoke, and I've loved you just as much for just as long.  I only regret that I didn't say it sooner, that it took nearly losing you for me to speak up."

"Don't, Frank," she whispered.  "Do you have any qualms kissing a girl who looks like she's been hit by a Mack truck?"

"None at all," he said before capturing her lips.

*  *  *

"Sheesh, this place is _packed_," Jake said.

"What did you expect?  The Boss does have friends and family, you know," Monica quipped.

"Does he," Alex joked.  "I never thought he had _this_ much."

"When is this thing going to start," Jake griped as he ran his finger along the starched collar of his shirt.  "I hate dressing up."

"Agent Shaw, you're such a titty baby," Cody said with a sigh.

"Shhhh," Monica hissed.  "This is a church you shitheads," she spat.

When she realized what she said, the group broke into laughter that was hard to contain.  Each of them had their hands clamped over their mouths.  It was juvenile, of course, but after the hell they had all gone through in recent months, it felt good to laugh.  However, if the show didn't get on the road soon, someone would kick them out.

*  *  *

It had been an uphill battle for all of them, but especially for Loralei and Donovan.  It took several months for Loralei to heal and become fully rehabilitated.  Loralei had been an independent girl her entire life, and for the first time, she was forced to rely on others for help.  It didn't sit well with her, but it drew her even closer to the man she loved.  He stuck with it, stuck with her, even through her frequent temper tantrums and her debilitating depression.  Eventually, her strength returned and she had begun to feel like her normal self.  It surprised her to no end that Donovan was still around.  They became absolutely inseparable after that.

Loralei took Donovan to her childhood home in Missouri, and he finally learned all the little secrets she had never told him.  There were no embarrassing nicknames, but there were plenty of photographs that pinked her cheeks more than once.  Of course, Geneva Kadin had shown Donovan _everything_, even told him a horrid story about a two-year-old Loralei who ran through the house, buck naked, peeing on the furniture.  At that point, Loralei decided it was time to put the albums away and go to bed.  

Loralei's parents, who were strict and set in their ways, insisted that she and Donovan have separate rooms.  Of course, that didn't quite stop either of them from sneaking back and forth.  On the night her mother embarrassed her to no end, it was Donovan's turn to creep into her room.  She was already in bed, but had been expecting him.  Patiently, she waited for him to bring up the peeing on the furniture thing.  In fact, she glared at him playfully with a lifted eyebrow.

"Don't even think about it," she warned.  "One word, and you sleep on the rug."

He smiled a little as he slipped into bed beside her.  "I wouldn't mind as long as you didn't pee on it," he said leaning over her.

"You insufferable turd," she sighed in mock exasperation.

"There's something I want to say to you," he said.

She examined the serious expression on his face.  "Must be a biggie.  You put on your serious face."

"Maybe a little biggie," he said as he gazed deeply into her eyes.  "Your debt is paid," he said simply.

She smiled a little.  "I got shot, I died, I came back, and the only thing that paid my debt was a little piss on the couch?  If I thought that's all it would have taken, I could have done that _months_ ago."

He kissed her to cut off her words and his hands began to move restlessly over her body, making her hot, making her crazy, making her want him.  As abruptly as he began, he stopped.  Frustrated, she moaned a little.  

"Why did you stop," she asked as she raised her head and began nuzzling his throat.

He closed his eyes and sighed.  "There's one more thing."

"Oh Jesus, Frank," she said before pulling away and laying back.  "You tease me so," she whispered as she ran her hands down his back.

"This is a _real_ biggie," he said with a grin.

"Oh God.  Did my mother show you those hideous pictures of me in the Math Club?  Was I wearing those big glasses?"

He shook his head.  "Nope, not quite."

"She didn't show you the school portrait I made during my punker pink hair days?"

"Not even close," he said with a wicked gleam in his eyes.

"Hmmm, then I have no idea."

"I did speak to your parents, though."

She sighed.  "Uh oh.  I can't imagine what they said about me; what horrible stories they told you.  None of them are true."

He smiled and kissed her very gently.  "Stop, Loralei.  You'll never get it.  I spoke to your parents to find out if they would give their blessing if I asked you to marry me."

A shiver ran through her.  At the same time, spreading warmth began to chase the goose bumps away.  Her heart began to beat hard in her chest.  For a moment, she had been tempted to shout out a resounding YES.  Yet, she wanted to play it cool, though, and make him suffer…just a little.  "What did they say?"   

"They agreed with me and put their stamp of approval on it.  What do _you_ think?"

"I _might_ consider it," she said with a teasing smile.

He shook his head and his smile broadened.  "Is that so?  Perhaps I _might_ ask."

"_Might_ you?"

"Could be," he said as he placed another gentle kiss on her lips.  He drew away again and gazed down at her.  "Will you?"

"Hmmm, let me think."  She drummed her fingers on his back for a few seconds.  "Um…sure.  Why the hell not?"

*  *  *

Soft music began to play, shaking Jake out of his light, bored doze.  "_Finally_," he spat.  "In thirty minutes, I am so out of this suit."

"See," Alex said.  "I told _you_ he'd marry her."

FINIS 


End file.
